All the Right Moves
by starlightmint
Summary: Sequel to Once & Again. Months after the reunion, Troy and Gabriella are still figuring out their lives... together and apart.
1. The Visitor

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

**Author's Note: **This is a sequel to Once & Again, my older Troyella fic. It just kind of popped into my head and I'm running with it. I don't think it will be as long as the other one, but you never know! Also, again because they're older things do get a bit more explicit, thus this fic will have a rating of M.

Also I guess I won't be recapping the events of O&A a lot, so you may have to read that story if some bits of this one don't make sense to you. It's available under my profile if you're interested.

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**Chapter 1 - The Visitor**

The phone rang in three short bursts while I stirred the pasta sauce, meaning someone was buzzing the apartment from the front door. I raced over to the living room and grabbed the cordless phone from its cradle. "Hello?"

The voice was shaky. "Is this the home of Troy Bolton?"

Whoever it was sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "Uh… who is this?"

The person appeared not to notice my question. "Is Troy home?" asked the voice again.

"Well… not at the moment," I said. "Who is this again?"

I heard the person blow their nose, then suddenly, the voice came through much stronger. "I'm sorry. My name is Sharpay Evans."

A jolt of surprise ran through me. "Sharpay? This is Gabriella Montez."

"Gabriella?" She sounded as shocked as I felt.

"Troy's not here, but you can come in and wait if you want."

I could hear her take a deep breath. "Well… if you wouldn't mind, Gabriella. Thank you."

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I unlocked the door and she came in, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. She looked just like the Sharpay I had met at the reunion seven months ago—the same as in high school, only with a touch more puffiness in the face. She wore all white except for a pink blouse, and a large white handbag dangled from her elbow. Standing next to the front door, she looked at me tentatively. It was obvious she had been crying for a while.

I stood there, uncertain what to do. "Sharpay… are you okay?"

She nodded, then shook her head tightly and looked away, brushing a hand against her face. "I'm sorry to descend upon you like this," she said, her voice faintly hollow.

"No, it's fine," I said, suddenly remembering the sauce and dashing to take it off the burner. "I'm sure Troy will be happy to see you. Have a seat. He's just out at the store."

She sat down at the kitchen table, and I went to sit next to her. "But really, Sharpay," I said. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do before he gets here?"

Her eyes were still shiny with tears as she smiled at me, trying to sound bright.

"I wasn't expecting to see you," she said. "I just looked Troy up in the phone book before I came here. Are you and he…"

I smiled sheepishly and held up my hand with the ring Troy had given me last month. "We're getting married next June." We'd already agreed on having the wedding next summer… although truthfully, we hadn't really thought about any other details besides that.

She smiled again, but then suddenly, her face collapsed. She crumpled down over the table, buried her arm in the crook of her elbow, and sobbed. I slid my chair over quickly and put my arm around her. "Hey, it's okay, Sharpay. It's okay. Just… what's the matter?"

She spoke but her arm muffled the sound.

"Sharpay… honey… I can't hear you," I said, trying to sound soothing.

She lifted her head and her tear-stained face looked at me with desperate sadness. "Zeke doesn't want to marry me anymore."

"He doesn't?"

I stroked her hair, but felt secretly stunned. I'd read that article about Sharpay and Zeke a while back, and thought they had looked intensely happy to be together.

"We had a fight today. The biggest we've ever had." She swiped at her tears with her forearm again and stared at the table. "My lawyer finally gave me a draft of our prenuptial agreement. But he… he wouldn't sign it. He got angry, and said we didn't need one. And that if I thought we did need one… maybe we shouldn't be getting married."

She kept talking. "But I tried to explain… I thought we both agreed… I thought we were going into this marriage with both eyes open." She gulped for breath. "I had the agreement made to protect both of us. I mean, I don't believe I'm going to divorce Zeke. But I never thought I'd divorce Chris either. And now I know what can happen when a marriage does fail. And I've got Dylan and Matthew to think of. I can't take any chances."

She wiped her eyes again. "So he got mad… and I didn't know what to do. Everything I said just seemed to make him angrier and angrier. And finally… finally he shouted and I shouted, and he said he needed time to think about everything, and I said fine, and stormed out of the apartment. And then… I couldn't stop crying in the car, and I got confused about what to do next… and then I remembered Troy lived in town, so I looked him up and came here."

She took a deep breath and looked up at me. "I just wanted to see a friendly face."

The front door suddenly cracked open, and we looked up to see Troy come in backward, leaning against the door and swinging the grocery bags inside. He looked at us and did a double-take.

"Well," I said, unable to help myself. "We've got one surprised face, at the very least."

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Sharpay stayed for dinner. Troy listened sympathetically as she told him her story again, and I could tell she was feeling better just talking to us. It was kind of nice.

"I should go back to him right now and make up," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "I go back to Albuquerque in two days."

Troy crossed his arms, a look of concern on his face. "Well, just make sure you've got your head on straight before you go back to talk to him," he said.

I nodded. "Sit down and really think about what you want. So you know what your goals are, and what you really want to get out of talking to him. Then you'll know what you can negotiate and what you really can't—and what you _have _to talk about. Otherwise the same problems are just going to come back."

"Ohh…" She put her head in her hands, her elbows on the table, and groaned in exhaustion. "I'm just so confused. I just need a little time to think. That's all. Just a little time."

There was a silence, and then Troy spoke up.

"Well… why don't you stay here for the night?"

Instantly, I shot him a look. Much as I felt for Sharpay, I wasn't sure that we should get any more involved in her marital problems than listening to them.

But Sharpay looked up at him, her eyes watery. "I… could?"

He shrugged, flicking his eyes over at me apologetically. "Yeah, it's no trouble."

And then they both looked over at me hopefully, and I could see there was no turning back.

"Sure, Sharpay," I said. "Don't worry about a thing."


	2. The Visit

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

**Author's Note: **Holy cow, have I been having trouble uploading to FF. I've been ready with this second chapter forever and the document manager just won't let me update! Not that it makes much difference to you all, just thought I'd share my frustration a little.

Also, since FF doesn't keep track of the dates each chapter was uploaded, I think I'll start adding those into each chapter from now on, for curiosity's sake. That doesn't make much difference to you all either, but just thought I'd let you know what I'm up to, again.

_Written June 24, 2006 _

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**Chapter 2 – The Visit**

By the time she finally got to bed, Sharpay had decided she would stay away from Zeke the whole day tomorrow, and use the time to clear her head. She'd make plans to see him in the morning before she flew out, and she felt that this would be enough time to talk it all through. I knew this because she kept repeating it to me as I got the extra blankets out for her.

"Besides," she said, as I helped her unfold the sofabed out. "I'm coming back next weekend, and he's flying out in two weeks. So there's plenty of time for us to talk. Right?"

Over at the sink, Troy caught my eye as he washed the dishes. He made a show of nodding fake-seriously, smiling at me.

I narrowed my eyes playfully at him for a split second. "Of course," I said to Sharpay, making the bed up and turning the corner lamp on. "It'll be just enough. Now, you really should get some sleep. You look pretty tired."

She looked at me for a second, then at the bed bathed in the warm light of the lamp. Then suddenly, she hugged me, squeezing me with genuine warmth. "Thanks so much, Gabi. For everything."

I caught a glimpse of Troy again over her shoulder, grinning as if to say See, we're doing a good thing here. I narrowed my eyes at him again. "No problem," I said, hugging her back.

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I hit the bathroom to get ready for bed while Troy finished up in the kitchen. When I came out, I found him already sprawled on his side under the covers, idly flipping through a magazine. I crawled in beside him, and he put the magazine away, gently reaching around my waist to pull me close. He'd already taken off his shirt—he liked to sleep in just his underwear—and my body pressed lightly against his chest, his skin warm on mine.

He kissed me on the forehead and grinned. "Okay, okay," he said, moving a few strands of hair out of my face. "I know you're not exactly happy with this. But thanks for being so cool about it."

"It's okay," I said. "But you could have asked me first, you know."

"Yeah, well…" He sighed. "I don't know. I've known Sharpay since elementary school, you know? And now she's away from home, and not having such a good time. I feel kind of obligated to help out, if I can." He looked at me. "I mean, if it were you… wouldn't you want to be somewhere that felt kind of safe?"

He was way too good. I felt like a jerk. "I guess."

"Well." He kissed me on the cheek. "I'd want you to be safe, anyway."

"Sure you would," I said, snuggling into him. "If it were life or death, you'd throw me to the wolves the first chance you had."

"Yeah, in a heartbeat, Montez," he said, snorting out a laugh. "Anyway, this is just for one night. She's going to stay at a hotel tomorrow night, anyway."

I looked at him. "She is?"

"That's what she said before she turned in."

"Well… okay."

I kissed him quickly, then turned around and snuggled into my pillow. He snapped off the light and spooned me from behind, his arm tight around my waist. I lay there for a moment, comfortable in his embrace, and then spoke up quietly again.

"I hope it all works out. They seemed so happy at the reunion. And in the paper."

"Yeah." He sounded tired, but genuine. "I hope so too."

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I got up late the next day to find the bed empty—but that wasn't unusual, even on a Sunday. He always got up early to run in the mornings, which always made me feel like a slacker. Sure enough, when I put on my bathrobe and opened the bedroom door, there he sat at the kitchen table, already eating a PopTart and reading the newspaper.

He looked up and smiled. I wandered over and kissed the top of his head before I sat down beside him.

"Morning," he said. "Or afternoon, I probably should say."

"Afternoon?" Glancing over at the wall clock in the living room, I groaned. It read 1:30. But looking over there, I realized Sharpay was gone. I looked at Troy and he nodded.

"She left at noon. Wanted to go shopping, have lunch, walk around, figure things out."

"Oh." I felt kind of bad for not seeing her off. "Well… I hope everything's okay."

"I think so," he said. "She looked a lot better before she left. Even ate a PopTart."

I snorted. "She ate a PopTart? Maybe she's doing worse than you think."

"Hey, I wouldn't talk," he said, shaking his head as he turned back to the paper. "I know you've been sneaking them. My supplies have been dwindling ever since you got here."

"Okay, maybe I've eaten a couple," I said. "But I still haven't enjoyed them. I'd take a good Toaster Strudel over a PopTart any day."

He looked up, incredulous. "Blasphemy, Montez."

I wound up eating instant oatmeal for breakfast… or lunch, whatever it was by now. Then after a shower, I took the laundry down to the basement. I came back leisurely, stopping to have a chat about the noisy tenants on the second floor with our neighbour Mrs. Robles. And when I finally opened the front door… Sharpay was back again.

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And this time she was sobbing openly, clinging to Troy as she stood just inside the front door. He shot me a look of alarm as I walked in. Holding her as she cried, he seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright. This time, I went to her immediately.

"Hey, hey," I said, touching her shoulder. "It's okay. Come sit down. Tell us what happened."

Pulling away from Troy, she turned to me tearfully. I put my arm around her and took her over to the couch, where she collapsed onto my shoulder. I made a pouring motion at Troy and he nodded, going over to the kitchen to start the kettle boiling.

Through the tears, the story started to emerge. Sharpay had shopped, had lunch, had felt like she had cleared her mind… and since she was in the neighbourhood, she stopped by Zeke's earlier than scheduled.

"He… he was happy to see me, because he didn't know where I was," she said, sniffing. "But… after that, I started to tell him what I thought. What was negotiable, what wasn't. I told him I needed him to sign the agreement, to protect both of us. And… he couldn't look at me. He wouldn't."

Troy sat down across from us, handing Sharpay a mug of steaming herbal tea. Sharpay closed her hands around the cup and took a deep breath.

"He said… he said… he thought he had made himself clear. That he was going into this marriage because he loved me… and he trusted me. And if I still didn't trust him… then maybe he was right yesterday. That we... shouldn't be thinking of making a commitment like this. Not yet."

"And I started to cry… and I said that wasn't fair to say that… and he said a prenup wasn't fair to him… and then I asked, so what does that mean? What does that mean for us now, if he thinks we shouldn't commit, and I can't commit without this piece of paper?"

She closed her eyes, and tears started to roll down her cheeks again.

"And he said… maybe we should take a break for a while. While I'm in Albuquerque. Maybe I shouldn't come out next weekend. We'd just wait, and think about things, and we'll talk again when he comes back out to see me in a few weeks."

She started to sob again, putting the tea down on the table before she spilled it. "The wedding's supposed to be in six months," she said. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

I put my arms around her, and glancing over, I saw Troy looked faintly stricken. I nodded my head slightly at him.

"You'll figure it out, Sharpay," I said. "You love him, and he knows that. You'll find a way." I took a deep breath. "And… you're welcome to stay here with us again tonight. If you want."

"Oh you guys…" I could feel her nod into my shoulder, and her arms squeezed me tightly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

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	3. The Hidden Drama

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

_Written June 25, 2006_

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**Chapter 3 – The Hidden Drama**

We had turned out the light long ago, but Troy still moved around, restless. He had spooned me for a bit, then retreated over to his side of the bed. Then just as I started to fall asleep, his arm snaked over my side again. I felt him kiss my shoulder as he settled in behind me.

I kept my eyes closed. "Okay," I whispered. "I know you're awake."

He kissed the back of my head. "Just go back to sleep."

I let out a scoff. "Not with you moving around every five minutes," I said. "But… you can tell me what's bugging you. If it helps."

There was a brief silence, and then he spoke up quietly. "Okay." He let out a breath. "Okay. I can't stop thinking about Sharpay and Zeke. What I said to her. Or I guess what we both said to her."

He sighed. "I just feel… kind of guilty. We told her to figure out what was negotiable, what she wanted. And then she did it… and look what happened." He was quiet for a minute. "Maybe they would have fixed it on their own."

"Or maybe this would have happened anyway," I said.

"Maybe." He hugged me a little tighter. "I just thought it was the right thing to do."

"So that's okay. We did our best."

"Well… the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

I groaned. "Okay, stop. You are never going to get anywhere thinking like that."

"It's just… I didn't want them to break up. And I feel partially responsible for everything that's happened."

I sighed. "Look." I turned around and put my arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek and hugging him close. "You didn't do anything wrong. Asking her to articulate what she wanted wasn't somehow the key to ruining their relationship. It was _what _she wanted that's the problem for them. You didn't exactly hand him the prenup and insist that he sign it."

"No," he said, sounding faintly relieved.

"Good, then."

I turned around and he held me close again, his body feeling more relaxed against mine. "So you're not going to ask me to sign a prenup, are you?" he asked.

"No," I said, "but I don't have any money or kids to worry about like Sharpay does." I laughed suddenly. "I've got a pile of student debt though, if you're interested."

"I'll have to think about it." He laughed slightly, then paused. "Sharpay and Zeke—they got together back at the reunion, didn't they?"

"They did," I said, yawning slightly as I drifted off to sleep. "Just like us."

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The next day, I sat at my corner cubicle at Poptech, sorting through the endless e-mails that had accumulated in my inbox over the weekend. I worked on the third floor of a lemon-yellow building in a neighbourhood called South Park. It was the core of the city's tech sector, and got its name from the lush green park right in the middle.

The magazine's headquarters took up three floors of the building and were exquisitely designed. Huge windows made it bright and airy, and the colour scheme was a cool mix of brown and red that felt businesslike but not stern. Most of the floors were cubicle space, but for the lucky few, there were five glassed-in offices lining the west wall on every floor. And I was keeping an eye on one of these glass offices, waiting for Anna Czyrka, the photo editor, to get off the phone.

I had been late this morning—Sharpay had stopped us both as we headed out the door, delivering a tearful farewell before she headed off to the airport—and had missed most of the editorial meeting which usually set the direction for the week. But stealing a glance over I saw Anna flip her thick blond ponytail over her shoulder and settle in behind her desk, obviously amused by whoever was on the other end of the line. I was probably going to be waiting a while.

Anna was almost the only real friend I had in the editorial office. While I had been freelancing articles for Poptech for months now, I had only spent a month as associate editor on staff. My contract was just for a four-month stint, covering a maternity leave plus overlapping summer vacation time for two of the senior editors. But besides Anna, it seemed like a lot of the staff wanted me to remember I wasn't going to be here for long. The staff seemed to be its own clique, polite but friendly to me, but always just forgetting to include me socially. The one consolation was that the Poptech offices were incredibly close to Troy's office. It was a relief to know I had someone to call on if I needed to vent, or just wanted to have lunch in the park.

I scanned through the e-mail idly, then looked up again to see Anna put down the phone. Walking over to see her, she smiled as I entered her office.

"Hey," she said warmly. "Didn't see you at the meeting this morning. Good weekend?"

I sat in the chair across from her. "Kind of strange, actually." I told her about Sharpay, and she winced slightly.

"That's got to be weird," she said. "I mean, you feel for them, but I wouldn't want to be involved in trying to fix the whole thing. It's touchy. You don't want to be blamed for anything."

"Yeah," I said. "That's what I thought at first… but Troy just felt like we should do something for her. He's way too nice." I shrugged, then grinned at her. "Anyway, so the meeting this morning. Anything fun happen?"

"Not really," she said. "Well, unless you count Camille doing the Camille thing again. Which is always fun for all of us."

She rolled her eyes. Camille Henderson was the assistant editor and the only person who was unabashedly cold toward me in the office. She had applied for my job when it came up a couple of months ago, and hadn't taken the rejection well. Ever since I had arrived, she seemed to be constantly talking up her own magazine projects and her qualifications, especially when I came up short. Anna told me not to be bothered about it… but sometimes, it really did seem like the other editors were listening to her.

"What was it this time?"

"Oh, something about her success with the last issue on remix culture. Your name came up and she said she could help you coordinate the future of science issue next month… if you were having trouble coming to meetings like this."

"She is unbelievable." I shook my head. "I'm fine with the issue though. It's all going according to plan. "

"I know," said Anna, smiling. "I knew it when you pitched the theme in the first place. It's going to be great when it comes out next month. Just let Mike know what you're up to, he'll see right through Camille."

Mike was the managing editor, one of the top bananas at the magazine and the husband of Troy's co-worker Wendy. We got along well. I nodded at Anna, and she grinned.

"You're a star, Gabi. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

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After work I went home and sat alone in the apartment, watching Oprah and eating the leftovers from last night's meal. Troy had left a message on my voice mail earlier today, saying he would be late getting home and would miss dinner. As the show moved to a commercial break at the half-hour mark, I heard the lock click at the door.

"Hey," said Troy, heaving his messenger bag to the floor. He looked tired. "What's going on?"

"Just checking in with my homegirl."

He made a face, walking over to the living room and looking at the television. "Oprah again?"

I took a bite of salad. "I like her."

"She's a fearmongerer."

"She does it because she cares," I said. "Today they're doing makeovers anyway. I can't wait to see how the ancient librarian turns out."

He grinned, but his face looked serious. I looked at him carefully, and put my bowl down on the table, turning the volume down on the television as I spoke. "So why were you late?"

He sat down in the chair across from me and rubbed his eyes. "Well… I went to see Zeke after work."

I looked at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Well… I looked up his bakery, and it wasn't too far." He sighed. "I couldn't get them off my mind. I just wanted to make sure he was doing okay too."

"Troy." I said. "I think you went a little too far, going over there."

He sounded unconvinced. "I don't know. I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We went out for a beer after. The whole thing seems a lot more complex than Sharpay was talking about."

"It is?"

"Well, yeah," he said. "Zeke seemed kind of torn up about it, but he was pretty lucid. I mean, there was the prenup thing. But he had a lot more reasons to be rethinking their relationship besides that."

He leaned back into the chair. "They'd been talking a couple of weeks before. The subject of kids came up. His business is doing well, and he wants to have some right away. But Sharpay doesn't want to have any for a while. Not for at least another couple of years, even if then."

He sounded a touch incredulous at Sharpay's decision. "Oh," I said, feeling something in me twinge. I didn't really want to have kids for a while either.

But Troy was still going. "And she doesn't want to take his name after they're married."

He said this one as though Sharpay had announced she was getting a sex change, or wanted the honeymoon to be on Jupiter. "Oh," I said, feeling that twinge again. Was he seriously concerned about this? Because I hadn't thought twice about it from the beginning—I completely expected to keep my own name after we were married.

"I mean, you can see why he's confused," he said. "Zeke said that he's worried he kind of jumped into this too quickly. Marriage is a serious commitment. It's your whole lives. You have to be agreed on where you're going. And right now, he's worried that he's just seeing what he wants to see, instead of what's really there."

He looked straight at me, and I felt suddenly queasy.

"Right," I said, swallowing hard.


	4. The Truth Untold

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

**Author's Note**: I just noticed something funny about the earlier chapter. It's meant to be 2017… but Oprah's still on TV? I guess I got kind of lost in thinking this story was set around the present time. But you know, it's probably not that far a stretch to think that Oprah will be holding court on the airwaves until she's dead and buried.

_Written June 27, 2006_

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**Chapter 4 – The Truth Untold**

As the evening wore on, I sat on the couch, growing more and more tense. My eyes stared at the television, but the only thing I could focus on was the replay of our conversation in my mind. What did he mean about the kids? And worse… what did he mean about my name? Suddenly I realized my neck was stiff, cold sweat covered my palms, and a strange painful throb radiated out of the back of my head. It was as if just cycling through the memory had taken an intense amount of effort.

I turned slightly to look over at him. He sat on the other end of the couch, tapping at his laptop keyboard, lost in something he was reading. He looked like the same old Troy, the relaxed, easy guy I woke up next to this morning. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was slightly off, as though there was a strange and unfamiliar layer hidden just under the surface of his skin. I realized suddenly that I was afraid to peel it away, find what was truly there.

_Come on_. I kept looking at him, trying to think instead about the reasons I loved him. His effortless, easy confidence. The way it felt when he held me in his arms. How easy it was to be with him, talk with him… to talk through anything. Maybe we should be talking right now. And maybe I would see that I was just overreacting.

Yeah. That was it. I was being silly. I felt my muscles relax slightly, and a small, nervous laugh escaped my mouth. Troy looked up, smiling suddenly.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I was just thinking about what you said earlier."

"About what?"

I shrugged, still smiling. "You know. You just sounded all disapproving when you talked about Sharpay not wanting to have kids so soon." I laughed again. "As if she did something really wrong, or something."

But I felt my stomach twist as his smile seemed to freeze. And when he spoke, he sounded mildly confused.

"Well… yeah," he said. "It just seems okay to have kids if you're able to handle it."

I felt tense again. "Even right after you're married, and you have kids already?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

I could think of a million reasons why not. "Well… they could spend some real time with each other, instead of rushing off to add something new and confusing to the mix. I mean, it's not like you can just have a baby, then forget about it and go hang out with each other like nothing happened."

"But they would be building a family together. Which would be spending some real time with each other. It's not as if Zeke's getting any younger."

"But it's not as if Sharpay's just some baby machine."

He let out a breath. "It's not like that. He wants them to create something great together. He's not just forcing her to pop something out."

I found myself scoffing. "Well, it's not like he has to carry it around for nine months. He just gets to coo every now and then while she has to sacrifice her whole life, not to mention her career."

His voice turned forceful. "Her career? She's a housewife, Gabi." Then suddenly he shook his head and looked over at me, a touch of dismay in his eyes. "Look… who are we really talking about here? What are you trying to say?"

I crossed my arms. "I'm saying that I just don't see anything wrong with Sharpay's decision."

He was still holding his laptop on his legs. Looking down, he folded it slowly and put it on the coffee table. "No… you're saying that you're not interested in having any kids soon, even if we could take it financially."

A cold sweat had spread all over my body. "Well… I'm not."

He was quiet for a moment, staring at the table in front of him. "Wow," he said, nodding slowly, as if he couldn't believe it. "Wow. I didn't know that. I thought we both thought… the sooner the better."

I felt aghast. "No," I said, drawing my knees up to my chest tightly. "I don't know where you got that… but no."

"Okay." He took a deep breath, as if trying to take it all in. "Okay. So when?"

"A few years. Five, maybe six."

He looked over at me incredulously. "Six years?"

His tone bothered me. "It's not that long," I said, half-impatiently. "We'll be in our mid-thirties. It's plenty of time."

"But every second counts, Gabi." He let out his breath, frustrated. "My mom had me when she was around your age. I just want my kids to grow up like I did. While I can still play with them. Get them into basketball, or whatever."

"They'll be my kids too, Troy, and you'll still be young enough to play with them," I said tightly. "And my mom had me when she was 35 and I turned out fine. I don't want to have any kids until I'm good and ready."

He stared at me fiercely. "You're just…"

But he stopped himself, turning away from me sharply. Instead we both sat there in an almost painful silence. My hands shivered as I took a pillow off the couch and clutched it to my chest, trying to stave off the nervous tension that raced through me. And suddenly, I remembered what else I wanted to say. Steeling myself, I let it out. "And… I don't want to change my name, either."

Slowly he turned to me. "What?"

I hugged the pillow closer and stared at him. "I'm keeping my name. I was always going to."

He looked upward, blinking as if to clear his head. "Gabi, are you serious?"

I felt slightly indignant. "Of course I'm serious."

"But we're going to be a family." He crossed his arms. "It just… makes sense."

Suddenly I resented him for trying to make me feel like I was just being difficult. "Being a family doesn't mean I'm the only one who's going to make any sacrifices," I said. "I don't see you changing your name. Mine's important to me. It's tied to all my professional work… and I'm the only kid my mom has. I'm not giving it up that easily."

"Oh, you're just…"

He stopped again, but this time I couldn't let it slide. "I'm what?"

Angrily, he turned to face me. "You're just doing this to piss me off. I know you. So quit this stupid crap and snap out of it."

I felt my mouth drop open and I gaped at him, speechless. Then shaking, I got to my feet, threw the pillow back on the couch, and finally found my voice.

"You can go to hell if you think I'm doing this just for kicks," I said, furious. "And if you really knew me, you would know I wouldn't bring any of this up unless I meant it. Getting married doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to be your property, some housewife who follows you around like a lapdog, fighting with you just to get attention. And if that's what you want…"

This time, I cut myself off. I had been ready to say, _maybe we shouldn't be getting married_. But looking at Troy, I knew he had already heard that part, even though I hadn't said it out loud.

His face turned stony, and he stared ahead at the table, silent and cold. And I stared at him for a second, feeling as though I was seeing him for the first time, before I turned and walked away.

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**Author's Note**: Hey, if you've got time, send me a review! I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far!


	5. The Sound of Silence

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

_Written June 28, 2006_

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**Chapter 5 – The Sound of Silence**

At work I buried myself in organizing next month's issue, confirming the production schedule, fielding phone calls and e-mails, and finally examining the finished pieces accumulating in my inbox. We had two weeks to deadline, but the way I was powering through now, we were well on track to finishing ahead of schedule. A few times, I saw Camille's curly head look up from her cubicle to steal a glance at me, and I felt secretly gleeful at how much I was getting done. But those were isolated moments.

For most of the day, I felt more like I was on autopilot, working mechanically on my tasks while my mind turned over and over at how serious this marriage thing really was. I had been thinking of it just as an abstract, distant excitement like a prom or a homecoming dance. But it wasn't just a lark—it was a deep and solemn commitment to live the rest of my life in concert with another person, forever.

_Forever_. The word echoed in my mind. I hadn't even held one job for longer than three years—how on earth did I agree to be part of something that would last the rest of my life? It had just been so wonderful in my bedroom that night, the hope and love in his eyes overwhelming—but now it felt like I had been foolishly romantic. We had never talked about our future together, never once discussed our hopes and our dreams for who we wanted to be and what we wanted to do… as we had finally found out last night.

And Troy… who was he really? I wanted to think about it clearly, but my mind seemed to keep sliding delicately past the subject, as if it was afraid to even broach the topic. Mentally I shook myself, forcing my mind to face it straight. Like Zeke, I needed to see Troy as he was… not as I wanted him to be.

Like… I'd never thought of him as a romantic, but last night showed he truly was. He wanted his own happy little family all bearing his own name… and he wanted it soon. And he was too soft in disposition, almost to a fault... too empathetic to anyone in need, and too willing to get deeply involved in other people's problems to make everything all right.

He didn't listen to me as well as I thought he did, like when he invited Sharpay to stay, right in front of me, without asking me first. And though he seemed so relaxed and easily confident, underneath it was just a strong sense of conviction that he was simply right about everything. When he told me to snap out of it last night, he said he knew me with such arrogant certainty, as if I was misbehaving like a small child who needed to be told.

And suddenly I felt as nervous and cold as I had yesterday, wondering why I had never thought of any of this before. The ring on my hand felt suddenly heavy, an unwanted symbol of my ability to make stupid decisions for myself.

Just then, Anna's head suddenly appeared over my cubicle wall.

"Hey," she said, grinning as she put her arms on the wall and looked down at me. "You've been awfully quiet today. Finally buckling down to work?"

I turned from my desk and smiled weakly. "Just trying to keep up with Camille."

Anna laughed. "Never, Gabi, will any of us catch up to that one." She stretched out her arms. "Man, I'm so tired. Went out on a shoot to one of these factories that makes bulletproof vests for the military. Some article Camille's working on about revolutionary new fabrics. Of course, the fabric's impossible to photograph well." She laughed. "I hate working for a tech magazine sometimes. Forces me to think creatively too often."

But I was suddenly staring at my computer, hardly listening to her. Anna snapped her fingers in front of me, a concerned look on her face.

"Hey," she said. "Is everything okay?"

It was difficult to speak. I didn't know how to start talking about this to anyone. "I'm okay," I said finally, unconvincing to even myself.

"Yeah?" she said, skeptical.

"It's just… cold in this area. It's numbing my conversation skills. Sorry."

She tapped the divider with her fingers, and for a moment it seemed like she was examining my face closely. "Well," she said finally, giving a shrug. "I know how that can feel. Some days I lose all ability to communicate properly with people. It's probably why I take photos." She laughed. "So I'll guess I'll leave you to it then. See you."

She waved and left, and I turned numbly back to powering through the articles, grateful for a distraction from my thoughts about Troy. Then suddenly, I felt somebody place something near my elbow. I turned to see a steaming cup of peppermint tea. And Anna stood beside my desk again, smiling at me.

"Just something to warm you up in your little corner," she said, squeezing my shoulder. I nodded, and tears suddenly pricked at my eyes at her kindness. I blinked hard, and saw her pause suddenly as she turned to walk away. "And Gabi… if you need to talk… you know where my office is."

I nodded again, and she waved happily and walked off. Maybe I should tell her everything, I thought. But I shook my head. Not just yet.

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I walked home after work instead of taking the bus, trying to delay going back to the apartment where I would have to see Troy. He had been avoiding me so far too: he had slept in the living room last night, and this morning, he had left earlier than I did. But when I got home late, he still wasn't there. I didn't know whether to feel good or bad about this. I sat down numbly on the couch for a minute, and then the phone rang.

I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hi, baby!" My mom's voice rang out warmly. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, good, good." My tone felt lifeless, but luckily, Mom was in a talkative mood and hardly noticed. I said barely two words while she told me all about the renovations Gary was making to the laundry room and the latest news about Albuquerque. They were having a heat wave at the moment, breaking all kinds of records left, right and center.

"And Gabi," she said, her voice dropping low. "I went to a seminar at Los Poblanos with the office. You know, that gorgeous bed and breakfast just outside the city." She giggled. "I asked about the rates for wedding receptions, and they're really quite reasonable. I know you wanted to have the wedding down here… so you should really come to see it the next time you're here."

Just then, the lock clicked open, and Troy came into the apartment. I looked up, and his eyes seemed heavy as he looked back at me.

"I don't know, Mom," I said, watching him put his bag down and wander through the kitchen, looking for a snack. "I'm … really not thinking about the wedding at the moment."

Troy didn't seem to react to the word _wedding_. On the other end of the line, my mom gave a dramatic gasp. "Well, Gabi, you should be. It's only a year from now. It takes a lot of planning. You need to have a schedule, a calendar, so you have everything in order by the big day. Get a good wedding planning book, they'll tell you how to do it."

"Yeah," I said. "Okay."

"Okay, baby." Suddenly she yelped. "Yikes, Gabi! I've got to go. Gary and I are going to the movies. So I'll talk to you soon, okay? Love you."

"Okay. I love you too."

I put down the phone, but Troy still didn't seem to notice. His eyes remained firmly on the cupboard, hunting for his snack. I watched him for a minute then suddenly felt a touch indignant at how he was willfully avoiding me. I remembered what he had last said to me yesterday, and felt like I was owed an apology.

I had more pride than this. I didn't need to wait around for him to pay attention to me. I got up, not looking at him, and went to the bedroom to change out of my work clothes. When I came back, he had pulled out his computer, sitting at the kitchen table with his headphones on, focused on what he was reading. He didn't look up, and neither of us spoke. And we both stayed quiet all night, as I watched a few hours of television, and when I finally got up and went to bed.

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**Author's Note**: Hey, readers! I'd love to hear from more of you with the reviews. Maybe I'm not giving you a chance because I update so often, but there's just six comments for the last chapter, and I know more of you are lurking out reading this story. So go on, write in, tell me if you think Gabi & Troy are being dumb in not talking to each other, or how Anna is the sweetest friend alive. I'd love to hear all about it.


	6. The Panic and the Prize

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

**Author's Note: **Bloody FF. Again I've been ready with this chapter for a while but the server wouldn't accept my upload. But finally, here it is! 

_Written June 29, 2006_

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**Chapter 6 – The Panic and the Prize**

He came home even later the next day, and the whole evening became a silent test of wills, both of us fighting to pretend the other wasn't there. Alone in the bedroom again, I slept as badly as I had the night before. At work in the morning, I felt barely able to think. The front page mockup was open on my screen, but I couldn't focus on any of the text I was meant to be proofreading.

The phone rang and I reached out a hand to pluck it from its cradle. The screen showed it was Kate Shaffer, the freelancer I'd hired to do our cover story. I'd known her from my days at _nucleus_, and she was one of the best writers I'd ever read. I mustered up my energy and tried to sound halfway decent.

"Hi, Kate. How are you?"

"Hey, Gabi." Her voice was shaky. "I'm not so good, actually."

"Oh no," I said, trying to sound sympathetic. "What's going on?"

Then her voice came over the line again, fragile and soft. "It's my dad, Gabi. He… died this morning."

And suddenly, I heard her start to sob gently. I snapped awake, my heart leaping up in my chest. "Oh my God. Oh my God, Kate. I'm so sorry."

I could hear her blow her nose. "No," she said. "No, I'm sorry. I've got to get back to Boston for the funeral next week. So I won't… I won't be able to do the story for you." She was crying again. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Gabi."

"Kate, please, don't even think about the article right now," I said. "I'll take care of it. You just take care of yourself. Don't worry about a thing."

"I'm.. it's just…" She blew her nose again. "I've just never… missed a deadline. I don't want to start."

I gave a small laugh. "Kate. You have bigger things to worry about right now."

She laughed too, and then she started to cry again. Softly, she thanked me for my understanding, and I wished her the best again before she hung up.

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It was mid-afternoon when I realized what losing Kate meant. As I poured a cup of coffee at the kitchenette, it hit me that we were now a week and a half to print, with no feature story to anchor the issue. And the photos were even already done—the photographer had done them weeks ago, when we had finally locked it in as our top story.

Kate's piece was meant to be an interview with Marian Molitor, the driving force behind one of the hottest tech companies in the country. She had started with just an optimized Internet search engine, and now was spearheading research and business development in a sprawling number of science and tech sectors. I'd sweet-talked Marian's staff for weeks before I could finally get through to Marian herself, and she'd only agreed to participate because by some miracle, the future of science theme appealed to her. It was a huge coup—Marian rarely gave out interviews, though she was incredibly articulate and intelligent when she did. And now… we didn't have anything nearly as big to fill the gap.

I raced back to my desk, my heart speeding up. Okay. Okay. I could still save this. The interview was still lined up in New York in a couple of days. I just needed a writer. I pulled up my address book on the screen, got out my list of dependable freelancers, and started calling.

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Two hours and sixteen names later, I still had nothing. Gary Ullman was doing the Business 4.0 cover story this week. Marlene de Cava was already in France for the EuroTech trade show. George Hwang was getting married.

I looked around the office and suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. The whole issue was dissolving in front of me, slipping through my fingers like sand. My eyes locked on Camille, sitting three cubicles in front of me, her head bent over an article she was reading. I couldn't stand thinking about what she would do if she knew what was happening. She would slink in and usurp the whole thing from me, relishing the chance to finally make me look like an idiot in front of everyone. _See,_ she'd say, _shouldn't you have hired me in the first place?_

I needed a friendly face. Quickly I got up, heading to Anna's office. But though the light was on, she wasn't there.

A voice suddenly cut in. "She's at a shoot in Oregon."

I turned around. Camille sat at her cubicle with a mildly amused look on her face. "You knew that, right?" she asked. "She'll be gone till the end of the week."

"Yeah," I said, defensively. "I knew that."

"Well. You just looked a little confused." She chuckled, and I knew she had wanted to finish that sentence off with _Like you always do_.

I stared at her, feeling my contempt grow as she looked smugly back at me. Camille was slightly overweight, but wore ill-fitting clothes that often made her look twice as big. Thick, dirty blonde, curly hair sat on top of her round, fleshy face, and her brown eyes glittered at me, obviously enjoying the fact that I had been caught not knowing about my only friend in the place. I felt disgusted and angry and annoyed with her… and suddenly I realized she might be able to help.

"Camille," I said, my voice harsh. "Give me a list of the magazine's best freelancers. I need someone to do something for me, fast."

She raised an eyebrow at me, and before she could give me another snide remark, I snapped out again. "I need something special for the middle section. Bring the names by my desk as soon as you can."

I felt Camille's eyes boring into me, and I knew she was wondering what trouble I might be in. Then quickly I started moving, making a beeline for the elevator. A rising panic flooded through me, and I needed to get out of this building now.

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The park was just around the corner, a thick oval carpet of lush green lawn with trees lining its edges. It was enclosed by a ring of cheerfully old-fashioned three- and four-story buildings, once colourful but now faded under the California sun. The center of the park held a children's playground with a wooden fort, a metal slide, and swings. Benches and tables dotted the rest of the greenery.

At lunch there would usually be dozens of people here, but in the middle of the afternoon, it was practically abandoned. I walked straight into the playground and sat in one of the soft rubber swings, trying to calm myself down. That stupid, stupid magazine. And stupid, stupid Camille.

My heart racing, I wished desperately for a shoulder to lean on. Under normal circumstances, it would have been Troy, but now I could only think of Anna. It suddenly occurred to me that besides her, I didn't have a whole lot of friends of my own in San Francisco. When I had moved here, I was ported straight into Troy's social circle, so everyone I knew already knew him—and liked him—first. So… there was no one on my side here. No one to turn to, no one to call.

And something in me crumpled as I realized that almost nothing here was truly my own. Our apartment was still in his name. I'd even gotten my job through his connections. Lowering my head, I almost started to cry. How on earth did I lose myself so completely in another person?

Rubbing my eyes with my fists, I realized how much I'd let myself disappear. Before Troy, I might have been searching for a career, but I had never leaned on anyone, always steering my own path through the ups and downs. But with Troy, I realized he had become the axis that my world rotated on, the starting point for all my decisions, and the rock I leaned on heavily whenever I needed help. It had felt so right at the time, but now I felt like I had traded control of my whole life for a hollow set of prizes: a loss of identity and confidence, and a band of gold on my left hand.

Looking down at the ring, I suddenly pulled it off roughly. Strength surged through me as I remembered how I had made it through worse times alone before, and I knew I could do it again. Shoving the ring into my pocket, I headed back to the office. On my desk, Camille had left a list of ten names. I picked up the phone, and started to dial.

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**Author's Note**: Dearest readers: you're fantastic. We've doubled the number of reviews from 6 to 12 for the last chapter—and you guys have come through with some wonderful, literate comments that have been such a pleasure to read. Makes me kind of want to write M-rated fiction forever, if this is what I get :) Okay, so let loose: tell me all about what you think of this chapter!


	7. The Space Between

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

_Written July 1, 2006_

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**Chapter 7 – The Space Between**

Near the end of the day, one of the freelancers halfway down on Camille's list said yes to the assignment immediately. I almost yelped with joy, and forwarded on the details of the interview without delay. Finally, I dropped the phone in triumph, packed my bag and went straight home. In the stress of the day, I found I could care less about the drama with Troy. It was my apartment too, and damn it, I had every right to be there if I wanted to relax.

I got home and dropped my bag at the door, feeling a touch of pride at having gotten through all this okay on my own. Sure, I was exhausted, but I'd gritted my teeth, gotten to work and made it happen. I changed quickly in the bedroom, then on impulse, heaved myself onto the bed. I sprawled out, unable to stop smiling, and let myself revel in my success.

Then suddenly, I froze, hearing the lock turn loudly at the front door.

I sat up instantly. Troy came into the apartment, carrying a brown cardboard box the size of a cake. He put it down on the kitchen counter, then stood there for a moment and looked at it, his shoulders slumped as if carrying some unseen weight. Then he turned and leaned back against the counter, surveying the apartment absently. Suddenly, I saw his eyes lock on my bag on the floor. Then his head lifted to the bedroom, and his eyes clapped straight onto mine.

"Hi," he blurted out, hastily standing up straighter.

It felt strange to hear him talk. I had become slightly used to him as a silent cipher. And today, after all this, I didn't feel as eager to hear his voice. "Hi," I said conversationally, like nothing had ever happened.

He still seemed caught off-guard. "So... when did you get home?"

"About ten minutes ago."

"Oh," he said, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah. I got here before that, and you weren't here then. Just surprised, I guess."

I got up and went over to the kitchen. The counter was in an L-shape, a section jutting out to divide the kitchen from the living room. I leaned on this part of the counter, putting me diagonally across from him, and folded my arms. I could feel him watching me the entire time.

"What's in the box?" I said.

He glanced behind him as if he had forgotten what he had brought in. "Oh… I don't know. There was a package tag in the mailbox. I just picked it up at the post office."

Then suddenly, he looked back at me seriously. "But listen, Gabi... I'm glad you're here. There's… something I wanted to say."

He looked away, taking a deep breath. "This whole thing. The last couple days. It's been so dumb." He gripped the counter behind him tightly, a touch of nervousness in his eyes. "I miss you, Gabi. I can't stand not talking to you anymore."

I didn't know how to respond. Before, I might have melted, but now I felt indifferent about talking to him. In fact, it felt slightly troubling. The more we would talk, the more we would get back to the couple we had been... and I wasn't sure I wanted that yet. "Oh," I said finally, my voice noncommittal.

A trace of confusion flickered across his face. "Well... I'm finding it hard, anyway," he said quietly. "I'm really sorry we fought."

But his words struck me as wrong. "You're sorry for what you said, or you're just sorry that we fought altogether?"

"I don't know," he said, sounding a touch defensive. "Both. Either. I just don't want to do this anymore."

"You just want things to stop feeling awkward? Or do you actually want to talk about what that fight was all about?"

"Well… both. Or either, again." He looked confused again, and faintly annoyed. "Whatever I have to do to make us okay again."

I didn't say anything. He stared at me, frowning slightly. "Fine," he said slowly, as if trying to get past my comments. "I know I'm sorry for what I said at the end of… our fight. That was out of line."

I nodded, looking down at the floor. "Okay."

"And… I'm sorry for being so childish over the last few days." He shifted nervously. "It was really dumb, I know. We just… never fight. I didn't know what to say, how to do it. And I kind of wanted time to figure things out for myself too."

He looked at me, anticipating a response, but I just nodded again. There was a silence, and then he let out a breath.

"Gabi… it takes two of us to fix this, you know."

Suddenly I felt defensive. "I know that," I said.

"It's just…" He seemed ambivalent about what he was going to say next. "I can't be the only one who's doing all the making up here."

He was right, but I felt myself resisting the urge to do something he wanted. "I know," I said, and stubbornly stopped at that.

He had a half-dismayed look on his face, and seemed to be wrestling with his words again. "You just seem… I don't know," he finally said. "Kind of reluctant."

"No," I said, in a tone that immediately implied the opposite.

He gave me a strange look, then tried to work past it. "Well, Gabi, come on then," he said. "I want this to work. I want _us _to work again."

But suddenly, he looked over at me, his voice soft. "Do… you?"

I couldn't look at him. Instead, I uncrossed my arms and grabbed onto the counter behind me, looking away at the floor. I wanted to say, _Not right now_, but I knew that would devastate him, so I just said nothing. And then he spoke up again.

"Gabi… where's your ring?"

He squeezed the words out of his throat, a strange, palpable hurt in his voice. And my heart dropped as I stared down at my bare hand, feeling suddenly like I had torn him in two. I nodded numbly, not sure what I could say. The real explanation sounded so thin. "I just… took it off."

"You took it off," he repeated blankly. "You took it off."

His breathing had become shallow, and it seemed like he was about to cry. And then he tore his eyes away from me, turning around to hold onto the counter, as if to regain his composure. The box from earlier still sat there in front of him, and suddenly he grabbed at it, breaking the tape and tearing the flaps open. He looked inside, and suddenly, his shoulders seemed to cave in.

"Gabi," he said, not looking at me. "I think we need… some space. I need some time… to think." He let out a breath, his head dropping. "I think I'm going to stay at Zeke's for a couple of days."

I felt a sudden jolt. I hadn't been expecting that. "Troy…"

But he cut me off. "Don't," he said harshly. "Just… don't."

He turned away, walking to the bedroom to grab some clothes and stuff them into his bag. Then avoiding my eyes, he quickly went to the front door and walked out.

I stood there, shaking slightly. Something in me wanted to run after him—but I held myself back, unsure whether I would be doing the right thing for me, or for him. Instead, I walked over to the couch and sat down, feeling numb at what had just happened. I knew this was what I wanted, a longer break to find the strong and independent person I had been… but somehow, I just felt hollow, like something was missing deep inside me.

And in the end, I simply walked over to the box on the counter, and looked at what was inside. On a nest of pink and white confetti sat a book titled, "Beautiful Weddings: A Guide to Planning Your Perfect Celebration." The note inside was signed by my mother. It read: _Just a little gift to get you started. And of course your celebration will already be perfect: you two are perfect for each other!_

Closing the box, I felt a strange shudder vibrate through my body. And standing there alone in the empty apartment, I suddenly started to cry.

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**Author's Note**: Thanks again to all you lovely reviewers! We demolished our last record of 12 by getting to 15 reviews for the last chapter, so good show, everyone. And again, I must say how delighted I am by the long, intelligent reviews left by the vast majority of you. It's a wonder to have such smart readers out there enjoying my work.

Anyway, enough of this author-reader lovefest… this chapter's a doozy, so what did you think? (And don't worry, things are going to start looking up soon... I promise!)


	8. The Left and the Leaving

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

_Written July 2, 2006_

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**Chapter 8 – The Left and the Leaving**

I turned in early, unable to stand the silence in the apartment after he left. Wrapping myself in the bedsheets, I tried to will myself to sleep, but instead found myself surrounded by memories of him. His scent was still on the pillow beside me, and I thought of how he held me close while we slept. Suddenly hot tears were pouring down my cheeks, and they kept coming until I finally drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, the apartment was devastatingly still. I wandered through the rooms getting ready for work, and felt like I was moving through a cavernous museum, filled with hundreds of things that had lost their meaning without Troy there. I kept shaking myself mentally, telling myself I was capable and self-reliant, and that this was all necessary to emerge stronger and more confident. But no matter what I did, I couldn't seem to stop the loneliness from seeping in. I felt small, and lost… and just a little bit scared.

I left early for the office before I could begin to cry again.

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At work, I tried to put the whole evening out of my head. I sat in front of my computer, trying to summon up the self-assurance that had got me through yesterday. But each time I even started to come close, a different memory of last night would suddenly surge forward. His hands gripping the counter. How defeated he looked when he saw my bare hand. And then I couldn't think of anything else.

On the verge of tears, I kept looking up toward Anna's office. I knew she wasn't there, but I wanted so badly to talk to her about everything. But after a while, I turned back to my computer, brushing at my eyes with the back of my hand. There was no one here for me, I told myself again. I just needed to be strong.

The phone rang and I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Gabriella. This is Bob Marsh."

"Oh..." The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. "Bob, right..."

His voice was brusque. "You gave me a call yesterday, about the Molitor story."

Oh, of course. "That's right, I did. How can I help?"

"I've just checked my calendar. My wife has been scheduled for day surgery in the early afternoon on Sunday. So I won't be able to do it."

Day surgery?Was he serious? Why why why could no freelancer do this one stupid interview? I almost threw the receiver at my desk in frustration, but thought better of it. I put on my sweetest voice and tried again. "Isn't there some way we could possibly work it out..."

He let out an incredulous laugh. "I'm sorry, Gabriella, but I don't think so. My family comes first. But good luck to you with finding another writer on your story." And with that, he hung up.

I jumped slightly, startled. Nobody had hung up on me like that in a long time. In fact, only one person used to hang up on me like that... and that was Taylor, my best friend in New York.

New York... where I needed someone to do an interview during brunch on Sunday.

And suddenly my heart did a leap as it all fell into place. Forget the freelancers. _I_ could do the interview. I had a travel budget, and I could definitely get exactly what I wanted out of the piece. And finally, I could be somewhere where there were people on my side. On top of that... I wouldn't have to go home to the empty apartment this weekend.

Without thinking, I snatched up the phone and dialed Taylor's office in New York.

"Taylor McKessie."

She answered abruptly, but a sense of relief flooded through me at the sound of her voice. I could feel myself really smiling for the first time in days.

"McKessie? Montez here."

I heard squealing at the other end of the line. "Gabi!" she said. "Wow, I haven't heard from you in ages. I thought you San Francisco hippies just hadn't figured out phones yet."

"Well, I just got mine installed," I said, laughing. "I'm trying it out now. How's it sound?"

"Crystal clear," she said. I could hear her typing in the background. Taylor was always efficient with her time. "Welcome to the modern era, longhair. So what's up?"

"Well, how's your apartment looking lately?" I asked.

"My apartment?" She sounded confused. "Spotless, as usual. What do you need to know that for?"

"Just wondering if there's any room for a hippie in the next couple of days."

"You're here this weekend." She breathed in sharply. "Are you here right now? Come down to the office, let's meet up for dinner. And of course you can stay. My apartment's a mess though. I lied earlier."

She was hilarious. "No, I'm not there right now, but I will be," I said. "I'm going to book a ticket this afternoon, and I'll be there in the evening. Sound okay?"

"Sounds perfect. I can't wait. Send me an e-mail with the details and I'll meet you at the airport."

And then just like Bob, she hung up. But this time, I was ready for it. With a sudden excitement filling me, I called Poptech's travel agent, and booked a ticket to New York.

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At home, I packed a small bag with my things when I suddenly thought about Troy again. I hadn't been thinking of him since I talked to Taylor earlier today. A hollow feeling washed over me, the excitement over the trip fading. What if he came home, and I wasn't here? Should I call him to tell him I'd be gone?

My stomach twisted. I thought about it for a second. I really needed to do this for the magazine. And besides... Troy didn't want to talk. He had said himself that we needed some space. So twenty-five hundred miles would probably be more than enough.

But I looked around the apartment, and felt a faint horror at what we had become. He had left me, and now I was leaving him… and I felt suddenly like we were destroying something precious through all this. Tears began to prick at my eyes again, and I shook my head sharply, trying to think only of Taylor and how excited I was to see her. And I realized how much I had to go—I needed to see her, to tell her everything, to help me figure this all out.

Brushing my hand over my eyes again, I took a deep breath and composed myself. I scribbled a note about New York on a piece of paper and propped it on the kitchen counter for him.

And just as I was about to leave, an impulse came over me. Running back to the bedroom, I dug the ring out of my jacket pocket and put it back on. I didn't know if this was a stupid thing to do… but somehow, I already felt better.

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**Author's Note**: Well, we're on the road to recovery, I think… Oh, and an update on the review front: we have made it to 12 reviews for the last chapter. That doesn't break our record of 15, but I don't think it's too shabby considering these installments are being posted a bit faster lately. And I'm going to sound like a broken record, but I really think this is worth repeating: I do so love the long thoughtful comments you all leave. They make me so excited to continue with the story. (I'll name names at the end, I promise!)

Okay, your turn now: review!


	9. The Safest Place

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

_Written July 3, 2006_

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**Chapter 9 – The Safest Place**

Entering the baggage carousel area, I dropped my bag near a wall and stretched my back. I had been on the plane for six hours, and fell asleep in a strange contorted position for the last two. Outside the windows, the sky already looked dark. My watch read eight o'clock, meaning it was already eleven here.

I picked up my bag and started to walk around, looking for Taylor in the scattered crowd waiting for my airplane. There seemed to be a family reunion going on in one area, and several people meeting up with their other halves. But I couldn't see Taylor's familiar face anywhere.

Then suddenly, I felt a tap at my shoulder. And turning around, there was Taylor, grinning like a fool. I felt a smile start to spread uncontrollably across my face. I'd forgotten how wonderful it felt to be with her.

She folded her arms. "Thanks for the wildly inaccurate e-mail, Gabi," she said, smiling. "I've been here for half an hour, back when your plane should have arrived."

I shrugged, grinning. "I guess the pilots didn't get the memo that Taylor McKessie hates to wait. Too busy trying to ensure the safety of their passengers, or something."

She frowned. "So inconsiderate." And then she melted into a delighted laugh. "Oh, I've missed you, Gabi. Come here."

And she threw her arms around me, hugging me tight. I hugged her back and felt a lump suddenly rise in my throat. Nobody had touched me with this much love in a long time. When she let go, I found myself blinking back tears, so happy to have someone who cared about me. A few escaped and I wiped them away with my hand, sniffling just a little.

"Hey, I thought you'd be happy to see me," she said, letting out a laugh. Then she paused abruptly. "Unless… you're not crying about me." She gave me a sideways look. "It's not Troy, is it?"

She'd gotten it in one shot. She could always read me like a book. Still trying to fight the tears, I nodded, unable to speak. Her face crumpled in sympathy.

"Oh, Gabi..."

She put her arm around me, and suddenly the tears started to fall as she walked us down to the airport train station. And feeling exhausted, I leaned on her shoulder and let her shepherd me all the way home.

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Taylor lived in the Murray Hills area of Manhattan, where all the young investment bankers rented tiny, gorgeous spaces for an exorbitant amount of money. Some time after I left New York, she'd moved to a brand new fifteen-story tower called the Cypress, a red brick building with huge glass windows dotting every floor. Getting into the apartment, I dropped my bag on the floor and walked around while Taylor went to the kitchen and fussed over something. We had fallen into our sisterly best-friend relationship almost immediately. It felt suddenly strange to think I had been across the country from her just this morning.

Her place was a studio apartment, meaning she simply had one big space shaped like an "L" and no bedroom. Instead, the end of the L furthest from the front door served as the "sleeping alcove," and the rest of it was the living room. But she had decorated the whole place immaculately, in rich shades of brown with white and aquamarine details, complementing the honey-colored hardwood floors. The small kitchen and bathroom to the left of the front door were clean with modern-looking fixtures. A panel of windows stretching across the entire wall opposite the front door added a brightness as well. None of it was as messy as she said it was.

I went over to the sleeping alcove, which was dominated by a queen bed covered in a soft brown duvet, with aquamarine pillows underneath. It looked so comfortable that I flopped down onto it without thinking. Taylor came in with a cup of tea, and I took it gratefully as she sat down at the end of the bed. It was past midnight, and it suddenly felt like we were at a sleepover, staying up late to bond over gossip and shared secrets.

She looked at me matter-of-factly as I sipped the tea. "So, what's going on with you and Troy?" she asked.

She had been graciously silent on the train ride home, but I knew she was dying for the details. My voice was quiet as I answered. "I don't know if I want to marry him anymore."

I'd never said that out loud, and the words cut through me like a knife. I felt the tears try to come up but fought them back. I didn't want to bawl like a baby all day.

"Wow," she said, nodding gravely. "What happened?"

"Well… we fought," I said. "And I started to realize that I don't know who he is, if I ever did." I choked suddenly. "And I don't even know who I am anymore. I think we… we might have jumped into this too soon."

She looked thoughtful. "What did you fight about?" she asked.

"Well… about us," I said, twisting the teacup in my hands. "But… it actually all started with Sharpay and Zeke."

I told her everything. All about Sharpay and Zeke's problems with the prenuptial agreement and the rest, and how Troy and I wound up fighting over the same things. And I talked about how I felt I was losing myself… and the second fight from yesterday.

She was quiet for a minute, then spoke up in a careful voice. "Well," she said, "okay."

I looked at her. "What does that mean?"

She shot me a stern look. "It means I'm thinking, so shut up for a second." She looked down at the bedspread, smoothing it out around her with her hand, then looked back at me. "Well… I don't know anything about Zeke and Sharpay. But you, I know." She paused. "Do you remember when you first moved to New York?"

I finished my tea and put the cup down on the bedside table. "Yeah," I said. "I remember being terrified, but it got better really fast."

"Yeah," she said. "But… don't you remember that you hung out with me a lot?"

I looked at her strangely. "Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."

"But…" She stretched out the word _but_. "I helped you find your apartment, your first job, and a lot of your friends."

"You did not…"

But I trailed off. I suddenly knew she was right. I'd been dropped instantly into Taylor's world the minute I came to New York. I looked at her in a state of slight shock.

She shrugged kindly. "Well… it's just what you do when you go somewhere new. You lean on the people who can help you first. Then you branch out, find some things of your own." She paused and looked at me. "You didn't abandon me when you did go out to find your own stuff to do, either."

I'd brought her with me most of the time, actually. "No," I said, feeling my stomach twist.

"And I don't know, but you guys moved in together really fast—just like that," she said, snapping her fingers. "So you've kind of got two things going on right now… figuring out your place in a new city, and figuring out your relationship."

She shrugged again. "I guess I'm playing devil's advocate here… but doing that kind of doubly ensures you're going to be following his lead. For guidance in a new place… and because you both wanted to be a couple. You just naturally want to put your lives together in a way you never had before. But that also doesn't mean you won't find your own things, in time."

Of course she was right. I lowered my head, feeling suddenly shaky. She was making so much sense… and I hadn't thought of any of that when I had stonewalled Troy yesterday. A strange sickening wave washed over me, and suddenly a tear fell down my cheek. I brushed it away quickly and tried to concentrate on what Taylor was still saying.

"So, I don't know," she said, letting out a breath. "You guys aren't talking. And you need to talk about the babies and stuff. That you should have done for sure." She looked at me sideways. "But… besides that, as far as I can tell, I don't know if you've got grounds for dismissal just yet."

I looked up at her. "I don't?"

She shook her head, smiling, and moved to sit next to me. "No," she said, putting her arm around my shoulders. "You wouldn't be crying like this, all night, if you weren't really afraid you might lose him." She looked at me. "And you definitely wouldn't be still wearing his ring."

Looking down at my hand, I remembered how my heart leapt when he asked me to marry him. And then suddenly, I burst into tears, shaking. Despite everything that had happened, I wanted nothing more but to be back with him. Taylor was always right.

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**Author's Note**: Ahh, Gabi's pretty lucky to have a best friend like Taylor. She's a real gem :) Also, thanks times a million to you readers as always. I'm quick with this chapter today, but even so you still found time to send me 11 reviews already for the last one! Fantastic work, and I can't wait to hear more from you. Hope you liked this one… I told you things were looking up…


	10. The Kindness of Strangers

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

_Written July 3, 2006_

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**Chapter 10 – The Kindness of Strangers**

There was one problem with getting back to him. I happened to be twenty-five hundred miles away from Troy at the moment, and I wasn't getting back until early Sunday evening. I couldn't call either—that just seemed too impersonal, considering the magnitude of our fight. I moped about this in the morning to Taylor, but she just made a rude noise back.

"Deal with it," she said briskly. "Now you've got time to figure out how you're going to make up with him when you see him next. And what you really want when it comes to babies and last names."

She gulped down her coffee and grabbed her briefcase, ready to head to work on Saturday. It turned out what she'd told me a while back was wrong—investment bankers did really work most weekends, having something like 80-hour work weeks altogether.

"But don't worry," she said as she headed for the door. "I've called in reinforcements. Someone's coming by at noon to hang out if you still need to talk. So you'd better look presentable by then."

"What's wrong with this?" I gestured down at my sleep shorts and tank-top, feigning innocence of their hideousness.

She made a face. "Don't embarrass me, Gabi," she said, the door slamming behind her.

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It was only in the middle of my shower that I realized she hadn't told me who was dropping by. Grabbing a towel, I dried off and quickly changed into jeans and a smart-looking top. Taylor had said not to embarrass her. Maybe one of her banking friends was coming.

Then just as I was about to call Taylor to ask, a knock came at the front door. I dashed over to open it… and saw Ryan Evans step into the room. He wore a huge grin on his face. "Gabriella Montez," he cried out, sweeping me up into a gigantic hug. "You look wonderful!"

I'd forgotten that he lived in New York. At the reunion, Sharpay had said he was with a Broadway show here. His hair was much shorter and slightly spiked up, and he looked good in a pair of stylish faded jeans and a hip green t-shirt. A small, orange, cloth messenger-style bag with a buttoned flap hung off one shoulder.

"Ryan, oh my God!" I hugged him back tight. "How did you know—"

"Taylor, of course," he interrupted, letting me go. "She looked me up a couple of months ago, and we hang out every now and then. When she's not busy with work, right." He clapped his hands. "So, have you had lunch yet?"

I shook my head, and he opened the front door back up, grinning. "Well, come on then," he said. "I know this excellent little place, but we've got to hustle if we want to beat the crowd."

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He took me to a little bistro in the Nolita neighbourhood, where I had a divine club sandwich and the most amazing iced tea. Ryan said he had found the restaurant eight years ago when he first moved here on his own, trying to break into Broadway. And he told me all about the revival of the Producers that he was currently in, playing a swing understudy for four male roles, including one of the leads.

"The only role I do get to play consistently is FDR," he said. "So that's the one I tell people to look for when they come to see me. The guy in the wheelchair who gets kicked offstage by Hitler at the end of the first act."

He was warm and funny and a lot smarter than I remembered him. I figured that growing up and finding his career had wisened him up a bit. He talked about a conversation he had with Sharpay last week, and I asked him why he and Sharpay weren't talking when I had seen her at the reunion last.

"Well… it's kind of complicated," he said. "But basically, it had to do with how I'm gay, and Sharpay's then-husband was a terrified homophobe."

I did a double take. "You're gay?"

He gave me a look that said _Come on_. "Seriously, Gabi. I thought everyone knew by now."

"Sorry," I laughed, shrugging. "I just have the worst gaydar ever. It's been documented."

"Really?" He seemed taken aback.

"No, of course not."

He laughed and finished his sandwich, throwing his napkin onto the table. "If it was anyone else but you I wouldn't have asked. You just always seemed to know everything." He wiggled his fingers near his head, as if to point out his brain. "But okay then, genius. Enough about me. What's new in your life?"

I felt my smile drop. I had been enjoying listening to someone else's life for once. "Well, not much," I said, trying to avoid the obvious. "Just working at a magazine out in San Francisco. That's why I flew out here, to do an article."

Ryan's eyes twinkled. "Taylor said you moved out there because of Troy."

Oh, man. He knew how to get straight to the point. "Yeah, well…" I let out a soft laugh, but felt a shot of cold tension run down my spine. "Maybe that won't be for long."

"What?" He looked confused. Sighing, I wound up telling him the whole story. He shook his head sadly at the end.

"Oh, Sharpay," he said. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I think it's that twin thing. Always needing support from someone close by. Though she likes to pretend she doesn't need anyone, especially me." He fidgeted with his napkin. "But she called me a couple of days ago. I think things are going better. She and Zeke have been talking on the phone, and he'll be out there next weekend. She said Zeke's had a bit of a change of heart lately. He's being a little more open about everything."

"Well, that's good," I said, looking away.

"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "Well, if anyone can work something out with my sister, it's Zeke. He was always a nice guy. And he doesn't have an irrational hatred for me, so that's always a plus." Then he tapped the edge of the table, looking at me. "You, on the other hand…"

"My hatred for you is completely rational," I said.

He laughed. "Of course," he said. "But what I really meant is that you have a tougher nut to crack with this Troy thing. Running off to the opposite side of the country after an argument… not a good thing."

"I know," I said quietly. "But there's nothing I can do right now. I'm flying back tomorrow. It'll have to wait till then."

We sat there in silence for a bit, and then suddenly I heard Ryan let out a snort.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, but I knew there was something more to it. "Come on," I prodded.

"Well…" He grinned sheepishly. "Don't hate me for saying this… but the fight you and Troy had at the start? I could kind of see that coming."

I shot him an incredulous look. "Ryan. Are you serious?"

"Well…" He laughed, turning a bit red. "You guys were always like that in high school. Sharpay and I always noticed. You're just both…. only children."

"Only children?"

"Oh man…." He looked away, smiling, and then lifted his palms up in the air. "Well… you both could be so difficult to work with sometimes, in the plays or whatever. We always chalked it up to you being the only children in the family. Neither of you ever had to fight with anyone else for what you wanted… so you got a bit self-entitled." He shrugged. "Both of you always got your way. And now… you're both trying to get your own way again."

I felt a twinge of recognition, but I folded my arms anyway. "Hey, I remember you being pretty damn difficult when we showed up at those Twinkle Towne auditions."

He wagged a finger at me. "Ah, but we sure did step aside once it was clear who had won." He laughed. "Well. All I'm saying is, maybe you both have to learn to back down once in a while. It's not all about winning."

He got up from the table. "And on that note," he said, "let me try to make it up to you. I don't want to be another gay cliché, but we're in Nolita, and there's a hundred funky little clothing shops around here. So come on. If you're going to be down, you might as well look great."

And I laughed, following him out of the restaurant out onto the street. Maybe I was far away from Troy… but right now, I felt glad to be in New York.

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**Author's Note: **I always wanted to throw something about Ryan into Once & Again, but just couldn't find the space. So finally, here he is. All right, this has been a quick update, but again you've all come through with 9 reviews for the last chapter. Can't wait to hear what you have to say about this one… and yes… we're going to get to their reunion soon enough…


	11. The Way Home

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

_Written July 4, 2006_

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**Chapter 11 – The Way Home**

At the brunch with Marian Molitor, I arrived early to tuck my bags discreetly under my chair. I was leaving for the airport directly after the interview, so I needed to make a quick getaway. I'd already said goodbye to Taylor, hugging her and thanking her so much for everything this weekend.

Marian arrived not long after I did. She was a slim woman with alert, birdlike eyes, who sat with impeccable posture and gave intelligent answers to every question I asked. She talked candidly about her vision for the future of science, but suddenly, I began to feel half-distracted in frightened anticipation for the flight home. For a moment, I got completely lost in thinking what Troy might say when I finally got back. It was then that I realized that Marian had finished her answer long ago and was looking at me expectantly for the next question.

"Gabriella?" she said after a moment, and I jumped, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"How did you… do it?"

She looked at me quizzically. "How did I do what?"

I felt myself grow red and tried to save it somehow."This. Everything that you've done. Going from a small tech company to a sprawling research firm. Do you ever look back at it all and wonder, how did I get here?"

She was serious for a minute, and then suddenly she laughed. "Actually… now that you mention it, sometimes I do." She paused, then spoke again, thoughtful. "I think it has to do with what makes success in any field… in anything, really. There's the basic three: vision, commitment, and a whole lot of effort. But the key ingredient is the fourth one. That's courage."

She nodded slowly as she said it, as if she was absorbed in the thought unfolding before her. "Because many have the stamina and ambition to do the first three. But it takes courage to take the leap and decide on your vision. It takes courage to push it forward despite opposition. And it takes courage to persist and keep your hope, even when all signs show you might fail."

And as she finished, I felt shaken to the core. It was as though she knew exactly where I would be headed next—straight home to Troy, to whatever might still be there. Nodding blindly, I scribbled down her words and moved onto the next question. But for the rest of the interview, her advice echoed in my head like a beacon of hope, strengthening my resolve to get back and somehow make things all right.

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I typed up my notes and a rough draft of the story on the plane, trying to distract myself from the time ticking away till our arrival. But in the end, the work only made the flight go faster, and it felt like we touched down on the San Francisco tarmac just minutes after taking off from New York.

I could feel my heart racing as the plane slowed to a halt. The rapid pounding echoed in my ears as I grabbed my bag out of the overhead compartment, walking over into the airport and toward the train station. I suddenly wished I had brought more luggage, so I could dawdle at the baggage carousel, but I hadn't thought that far in advance last Friday. I felt adrift without Taylor or Ryan behind me, telling me everything was okay.

A strong sense of déjà vu came over me as I rode the train into the city, the sun starting to gently set in the west. Months ago, this was how it had all started—me rushing back to find him, to apologize, to see if we could make it after all. But back then, we were still wrapped in the first flush of love, impervious to everything, even my ability to screw things up. Now, we were seeing each other with open eyes, realizing things could damage us…. and I'd somehow found a way to hurt him so badly, I didn't know whether I could ever make it okay again.

I felt so cold. I got out my cell phone and tried his number, my fingers shaking as I dialed. If he was home… I may as well give him a heads-up that I was coming. Start the conversation now.

But he didn't answer. And I shivered as I realized that he hadn't been calling me. I had taken my cell phone to New York with me, but no new messages, no missed calls had been registered since I left.

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I held my breath as I turned the key in the apartment door lock. But there was no need—the place was as empty as I had left it on Friday. I sat down heavily in the living room, dropping my bag on the couch beside me. Getting out my cell phone, I dialed him again… and heard his ringtone trill loudly from the bedroom.

Stumbling to my feet, I half-ran over there, both afraid and excited that I had just missed him in my initial sweep. But all that sat there was his phone, charging quietly in the outlet by the bed, and I realized there was a small pile of his clothes there too. None of this had been here before I left…. so he had definitely come home, and probably found my note there in the kitchen.

A wave of fear washed over me as I thought about him reading it. What had he thought? What had he done? And most importantly: where did he go?

Anxiously, I shifted from foot to foot, wanting both to see him right now and not see him ever again. Then I looked down at my hands and realized my left hand had closed in a fist, my fingertips pressed firmly against the ring. I remembered what Marian Molitor had said earlier, and felt my determination return. No matter what I needed to do… I had to find a way to be with him again.

Taking a deep breath, I got my laptop out and looked up Zeke's address. Then I grabbed my bag and took off out the door, not looking back.

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Zeke's bakery wasn't far at all—it was a short walk away in the hip Hayes Valley neighborhood, twinkling merrily among the funky houseware stores and clothing boutiques. The canopy was bright red and proudly declared Zeke's name, and the glass window contained a gorgeous selection of pastel-colored cakes.

I pushed the glass-fronted door to go inside and was hit immediately by the wonderful smell of baking. A small lineup was already waiting at the counter for cupcakes and other baked goods. I could see Zeke laughing with one of his employees in the open kitchen. He wore a blue ringer t-shirt behind his white apron and moved with confidence from mixing bowl to mixing bowl.

Then suddenly, his eyes locked on mine and the happiness seemed to drain off his face. I gave a small wave and stepped closer to the counter, and he wiped his hands on a rag and came over to me.

"Hey, Zeke," I said, trying to sound warm.

He nodded. "Hi, Gabi," he said, his voice rather tight. "How was New York?"

Ouch. I guessed I deserved that. "Good," I said, willing my voice to stay bright. "Actually, I just got back, and I'm… looking for Troy." I took a deep breath. "I know he's staying with you. Would you know where he might be right now?"

He shrugged, giving me an innocent smile. "Not really."

His answer was too quick. I knew he knew something. "Look," I said, my voice breaking a little. "I really need to talk to him. I just need to know where he is. It would really help me out if you could just tell me."

"Sorry, Gabi," he said, friendly but unyielding.

"Please, Zeke…"

But he just shrugged again. "I really wish I could help," he said, looking at me without a shred of sympathy.

I stared back, my eyes filling with mad, frustrated tears. "I wish you could too," I choked out, and headed blindly out of the store.

I threw myself onto the bench outside the shop, swiping at my tears with my arm and trying to calm down. Fine. I didn't need Zeke. I could figure this out myself. But as I tried to think of where Troy might go if he was angry, I hit a dead end almost immediately. I wanted to start wailing. We'd just never gotten this mad at each other before.

Then suddenly, I felt someone sit down beside me on the bench. And looking over, there was Zeke. He folded his arms and he wore a grave look on his face. Then he turned to me slowly, as if against his better judgment, and finally nodded his head.

"He's going to kill me for this," he said, a touch of reluctance in his voice, "but I'll tell you where he is."

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**Author's Note**: Woot—we're getting close! I can't wait to get to the ending actually: I've been thinking about it for days. Okay, now shout outs again to all you lovely reviewers. We hit 15 for the last chapter, which ties our old record of, well, 15. And special thanks to carito06, who put us into triple digits with the 100th review. (I didn't tell you that carito, but there you go :) Can't wait to hear what you all have to say about this one!


	12. The Right to Remain Silent

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

_Written July 5, 2006_

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**Chapter 12 – The Right to Remain Silent**

Zeke sighed. "Look," he said. "I'm sorry for dropping the New York thing like that earlier. I shouldn't be judging, I know."

I nodded dumbly. I was desperate to know where Troy was… but I didn't want to say anything for fear Zeke might not tell me.

"I just got a little defensive because of Troy." He let out a breath. "He's really been there during this whole Sharpay thing. And I know… he's really broken up over you leaving."

_Oh, God_.My stomach dropped. "When did he find out?" I blurted out.

"Last night," said Zeke simply. "He went back to see you again… but you were gone. He called me this morning and he was in pretty rough shape. We had breakfast, and he kept saying he didn't want to see you, ever again."

He trailed off softly at the end. "So I guess I just felt like I was on his side," he said quietly. "I wasn't going to tell you anything. But when you ran out like that…" He sighed heavily and put his hand over his eyes. "I don't know. You just looked as hurt as he did."

I put my hands up to my face as my eyes started to brim over again, shaking with silent sobs. He shook his head and put his arm around me, rubbing my upper arm warmly.

"I don't know if I'm just a sucker," he said. "But if you'll pardon me for saying so… I just don't feel like you're as bad as Troy would have me believe." He let out another breath. "And no matter what happened between you… all I know is that you both seem completely miserable without each other. And… I don't know if I'd be doing the right thing if I just let that slide."

And pulling his arm away from me, he took his wallet out of his back pocket and extracted two tickets, handing them to me.

"What—"

But looking down, I realized what they were. Emblazoned across the top of each one was the title _San Francisco Business Leadership Awards._ Troy had told me about it weeks ago, but I'd forgotten.

I looked up at Zeke and opened my mouth. "He's…"

He nodded, shrugging. "He's there for his work tonight. I'm going because of the bakery. Sharpay was supposed to come, but…"

"But she's in Albuquerque," I breathed, staring at the tickets, shaking.

"So… I've got an extra," he said. "And if you've got a dress… you're welcome to come along."

And he laughed as I threw my arms around him, hugging him tight. "Oh my God, Zeke," I said, feeling like I would suddenly burst from hope. "Of course, of course, of course."

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And then suddenly, Zeke was holding my hand, guiding me gently toward the banquet. The awards were being held in the Asian Art Museum of San Francisco, an enormous stone building in the city's downtown. He led me up the stone steps to enter the huge doors, crossing the marble floors to the tables set up in the softly lit main floor gallery space. And I shivered in the beautiful dress I had bought in New York, cold from the night air… and the anxiety of seeing Troy again.

I looked around the room discreetly as Zeke gave our tickets to a woman at a desk. I wanted to see him before he saw me… but I couldn't find him anywhere. Then we were moving forward again, following the woman to a half-filled table in the middle. A few of the people stood up as we approached, and as I went to shake hands with the person across from me, I connected with a pair of unmistakable blue eyes.

My hand dropped and I lost my breath. Across from me, I saw Troy flinch visibly, staring at me in confusion, and then in anger. His eyes flicked to Zeke, and I saw his face start to grow red. Then he seemed to stumble backward into his chair, pushing it aside roughly and walking toward the exit.

Zeke shot me a look, then chased after Troy, grabbing his arm and trying to talk to him. Mechanically, I pretended like nothing had happened and shook hands with the rest of the guests at the table. I sat down and out of the corner of my eye, I watched Zeke and Troy talk heatedly near the entrance, unable to hear what they were saying. The woman who had taken our tickets ventured near, and I saw them both laugh nervously as she spoke to them.

Then someone at the table asked about my job, and I started to answer, losing my focus on Troy. But when I looked up next, he was suddenly sitting back down on the other side of the table, Zeke coming to sit on my right. Troy's eyes still seemed to burn, and I could tell he was making a conscious effort not to pay attention to me. But discreetly, I saw his eyes flick over to my left hand. And I could swear I saw his eyes soften as he glimpsed the ring, before turning his head away.

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But I found that though I was across the table from him, I may as well have been in New York still. He kept his head down and tried not to acknowledge me, silent and sullen. It was as though we had a sulking black hole at the table that no one could talk to but no one could avoid. And beside him, one seat remained pregnantly empty. I frowned at it for a few seconds before I realized that it was where I would have been sitting, had I come with him.

But instead of playing the game, I just kept talking, hoping that Troy would somehow be intrigued and forced to contribute. I talked to Zeke and the rest of the guests as cheerfully as I could, telling stories about New York, and chatting lightly about the other guests' businesses in the city. I kept my eye on Troy, trying to create openings for him to say hello and start a conversation again. But though he started to glance over more and more, he wasn't saying anything.

The man sitting on my left suddenly leaned over to me. "He's rather stiff, don't you think?" he whispered, nodding his head toward Troy.

I laughed quietly. "Maybe he's just shy," I whispered back. "Some people don't like talking to strangers."

The man grinned. I'd forgotten his name, but the man owned a furniture and appliance store on the edge of downtown. He was chubby and jovial and slightly oblivious, like a well-meaning uncle who you didn't like spending long periods of time with. I saw Troy's eyes lift to watch us talk, and pretended not to notice.

The man went on cheerfully. "So you're a journalist, are you?"

"Sort of," I said. "I'm just on temporary contract at a magazine right now. It'll be up in a few months, and I don't know what'll be coming next."

But he didn't seem to be listening. "Did you know," he said, "that journalists are the least trusted occupation in America, even before lawyers?"

_Great_. "Really?" I asked politely.

He guffawed. "It was a poll, you see. People called the journalists 'lying rats,' never to be talked to or listened to. Amazing stuff."

I gave him an innocent look. "That's pretty interesting. Where did you hear about that poll?"

"Oh…" His voice became uncomfortable. "I suppose… the newspaper."

Suddenly I heard a snicker come from the other side of the table. Glancing carefully over, I saw Troy rub his neck and look away, smiling. And as I kept talking to the man beside me, I instantly realized that the right opening for Troy was here. But… it wasn't Troy who needed to speak.

I got up quickly. "Excuse me," I said, and the man I was talking to watched in puzzlement as I went around to sit beside Troy. I could hear Troy breathe in sharply as I sat down, and he put his elbows on the table, looking anywhere but at me.

"Hi," I said softly, but he wouldn't answer back. Then gently, I reached out, about to touch his shoulder… when a microphone boomed from the end of the gallery hall.

My head turned. The woman who had taken our tickets was getting up to a podium to speak. "Hi everyone," she said, smiling widely. "Thank you so much for coming. It's such a pleasure for the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce and the mayor's office to host this event."

A round of applause burst out from the crowd. I could hear her laugh into the microphone as it intensified. "You are all wonderful examples of leadership in the community and the business world," she said. "And I'll make sure to keep this short, because there's some awards to hand out."

And as she kept speaking, I turned back to Troy, to ask him about the awards, anything. But all I saw was a crumpled napkin on his chair. And looking up, I saw him walking between the tables, winding his way back toward the exit.

In shock, I looked over at Zeke, and he started to get up, shooting me a look that said _I have no idea what he's doing_. But I suddenly shot him a stern look, and motioned for him to sit down. This thing with Troy… it was my battle to fight. And quickly, I got to my feet and hurried after him.

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**Author's Note**: Okay, okay, I'm fixing things! Sorry about all the cliffhangers. It's just that the chapters get so long that I have to break them up somewhere natural. But thanks again to all you reviewers who have come through with 18 comments for the last chapter! A new record, and you wouldn't believe how happy that makes me. And I promise you, we are getting to the happy part soon. So just hold on while I make it happen…


	13. This Isn't Going To Be Easy

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

_Written July 8, 2006_

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**Chapter 13 – This Isn't Going To Be Easy**

He moved quickly, already past the dining area when I got up to go after him. I squeezed through the tables and hit the foyer just as he passed through the main entrance. As he started down the stone steps, a wave of panic hit me as I realized he was gaining distance.

"Troy," I blurted out suddenly. "Wait. Please stop. I… just want to talk."

But he was halfway down the stairs and still going. Stumbling blindly after him, I called out again. "I'm sorry, Troy," I said, my voice distorted from desperation and fear. "I'm sorry. Please talk to me. Please don't run away."

And then suddenly, I saw him stop.

He stood heavily in the middle of the steps and let out a loud, frustrated groan. I flinched, nearly falling off the stairs as I ground to a halt on my high heels. And then he ran his hands roughly over his face as if utterly exasperated.

"God, Gabi!" he said, practically shouting. "Why did you come here?"

His words hit me like a slap in the face. He'd never yelled at me before. He kept his back to me, and showed no sign of trying to turn. "I don't need this," he said fiercely. "I don't need any of this. You weren't supposed to be here tonight. You should have just stayed away."

I forced myself to answer. "I couldn't, Troy," I said. "I… had to see you."

"Well, I didn't want to see you," he snapped back. "You left. You wanted to be away so badly. So you can leave right now, Gabi. Just go."

But though every word stung me hard, I stood frozen to the spot. And then after a long moment, he let out an irritated breath and sat down on the step. Resting his elbows on his knees, he gripped his hands together tightly. And at once I felt both anxious and hopeful: maybe he was angry… but he was still here.

But my heart fell as he spoke again. "You think you can just walk back here and make everything okay," he said, his voice filled with cold spite. "But you can't just take off your ring like that. You can't just take off across the country like that, and expect me to pretend like nothing has changed."

He fell silent, restlessly gripping his hands together over and over. And after a minute, I finally spoke.

"I know I can't do that," I said, my voice feeling rusty. "But I wasn't going to pretend things were the same. And that's not what I wanted from you, either."

And feeling more afraid than I had ever had in my entire life, I gathered my courage and sat down beside him.

My throat felt tight as I looked over at him. His face seemed flushed, and he was breathing hard, staring straight ahead. I wanted badly to reach out and touch him, but knew that was impossible right now. Instead I crossed my arms tightly, willed my body to stop shivering, and tried to tell him the truth.

"I didn't do all this just to hurt you," I said. "I didn't do it because I didn't care. I did it because I was scared, and I was confused, and I was completely alone."

Tears started to prick at my eyes and I blinked them back roughly. "Because after that first fight… I felt like I didn't know you. And then I didn't have anyone to turn to for help. Everything I had… I had because of you. It started to feel like I'd lost myself in trying to be with you, that I had nothing of my own—and that I hardly knew why I was going to be with you for the rest of my life."

The words became difficult to say. "And then we fought again and you left… and I found out there was really nothing at all here for me," I said, my voice starting to become high and tearful. "So when that magazine article came up… I went to Taylor and Ryan in New York, all the people who loved me without you." I swallowed, the lump in my throat unbearably huge. "But… all I found there was that I hadn't really lost myself. I just… might have lost you."

I couldn't stop the tears now. "So… I'm sorry I left, Troy," I said, struggling to keep talking as I wept. "I'm sorry I took the ring off. I'm sorry for everything." I pressed my hands over my eyes, feeling my shoulders shake with the sobs. "But I don't want to lose you. I don't want to let you go. I know we've got a lot to talk about… but I want to figure everything out with you by my side."

"Gabi…"

And I was still shaking as he said my name, tears rolling down my cheeks, the inches between us feeling as vast as miles.

"You don't know what it was like," he said slowly. "You don't know what it was like to come home, and find you gone."

And something in me crumpled painfully out as he let out a breath. "I missed you, you know," he said. "I just wanted to come home to you. And when I got there yesterday, I just thought you were out. Then when I read that note… I felt like the biggest idiot in the world."

His voice cracked. "And I thought about… how I didn't really know you at all. I didn't think you'd ever just… up and go."

I couldn't breathe. "Troy…"

But he cut me off quickly, his voice getting tight. "And I thought, well, that was it," he said. "That this was the end. And thank God, you know. Thank God I found out before we did anything too dumb." He stopped, stiffly silent. "And then, you had to go and come to this thing tonight."

He looked up into the evening sky, as if trying not to cry. "And damn it," he said, his voice halting. "It's so hard not to talk to you. And you wouldn't stop making me laugh. And now you're here, chasing after me, coming up with a good excuse for everything I was so mad about. I feel dumb again… but not for the reasons I thought."

And it seemed like the stairs had dropped away beneath me, as I realized what he had just said. "Are you saying…"

And he was staring at me as if he couldn't look anywhere else, the brightness in his eyes threatening to give way to tears.

"Jesus Christ, Gabi," he choked out. "I'm saying of course you haven't lost me. I was afraid… that I'd lost you."

And then suddenly, as if he couldn't help it any longer, he closed the gap between us and kissed me on the mouth.

And his kiss was soft and sweet and overflowing with pure love. I closed my eyes and felt like I would collapse, overwhelmed by his sudden closeness and the amazement that he was once again mine. And I started to cry as his arms wrapped around my waist, pouring all my love and hope into the kiss as he pressed me to him tight.

And he kept me close as we broke our kiss, not wanting to let go. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, feeling his heart beat softly against mine. And we stayed like that for a few minutes more, until I pulled back to look at him, to prove that he was still really there. And as he looked at me, his eyes softened, and a sheepish, happy smile started on his face.

"Come on, Gabi," he whispered, as if telling a secret made just for me. "Let's get out of here. Let's go home."

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**Author's Note**: Okay, you lucky lucky kids: I told you everything would be happy! And thanks for the patience from the vast majority of you---this took me a long time to do, because I wanted to get it just right. It's tough to find a good balance between realism and melodramatic romance-novel ending, and I'm satisfied I struck the right note in the end. So I hope you enjoyed it… and again please do review, because you've been so wonderful so far (22 for the last chapter, huzzah!). Oh, and in case you are curious, I should let you know we are awful close to the ending now. There's probably just a couple more chapters before we say goodbye to Troy and Gabi again….


	14. The String of Loose Ends Part I

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

**Author's Note**: All right, every one. This is a **VERY IMPORTANT REMINDER** that this fic is **RATED M. **Which means, as usual, that **this story is not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16, with possible strong but non-explicit adult themes, references to violence, and strong coarse language.**

Yes. I hate to give it all up like this, but the adult content is back for a bit. And I don't mean to treat you all like children, but I don't want anyone getting any nasty surprises when they read this chapter, since the rest of it has been relatively adult-content-free. So be warned—read on at your own risk!

(Also, this chapter is in two parts because it got way too long. So don't worry if this one seems to end a bit abruptly.)

_Written July 9, 2006_

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**Chapter 14 - The String of Loose Ends**

PART I

We walked the few blocks home from the museum together, Troy holding my hand tightly in his. He'd held onto it since we had gone back to the museum foyer, to wave goodbye to Zeke. Zeke had nodded to us from the table, smiling at us as if to say _Go on_. Then Troy had squeezed my hand and led me away, back down to the street.

But though we had made up, I couldn't help but feel suddenly shy around him. Talking was okay… but besides our kiss from earlier, he hadn't touched me in ages. I felt awkward, like I couldn't touch him, like I needed to learn to be with to him all over again. When we got inside the apartment, I let go of his hand immediately, pretending to be busy with taking off my heels.

He didn't seem to notice though, turning instead toward the kitchen with a laugh. "I don't know about you," he said, "but I could use a PopTart." And as he rifled through the cupboards and got the toaster ready, I went to sit on the far end of the couch in the living room, a safe distance away.

He grabbed the PopTart as it came out, eating it lazily as he came to sit next to me. But I sat with my back to the arm of the couch, my legs stretched out so he couldn't sit close. Realizing this, he moved to sit facing me, perched on the opposite arm. Finishing off the PopTart, he grinned.

"I still don't know why you hate these things," he said, holding up the last corner of his snack.

"I still don't know why you like them," I said, smiling. "And watch it, buddy. You're getting crumbs everywhere."

He ate the last bite, then held up his palms. "Well, you've never noticed before."

I looked over at him sharply. "Hey, sorry," he said, laughing. "But you really haven't."

He smiled, then clapped his hands together absently before looking back at me again.

"Hey look," he said, his voice dropping seriously. "I know we've kind of just got back to solid ground. But… there's some things we haven't talked about yet. And we probably should."

"Like kids, and last names?" I asked innocently.

"Kids and last names, yeah." He was quiet for a moment,. "I mean, I've been thinking about it a bit."

I put my arm along the back of the couch, looking at him sideways. "And…?"

His fingers reached up to loosen his tie. "Well…" he said, carefully. "About the kids. You kind of have a point. I mean, you're right. I'm not the one who's going to have to carry them. So… it's ultimately up to you, when you want to have them."

His words didn't sound quite right. "Well… kind of," I said slowly. "I mean… we should try to come up with a decision we're both okay with. It doesn't have to be a zero-sum game." I chewed the edge of my fingernail. "Maybe… we could have them a little earlier than I wanted. But just not right away, like you wanted."

"Like how long are we talking?"

"How about… three years?"

I braced for a fight, but he nodded easily.

"Okay," he said.

I felt shocked. "Really?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Three years can go by really fast. And I won't be that old by then. I'll be in my early thirties, not mid-thirties. Practically a kid."

Well… I guess maybe we really could work things out. "Okay," I said, looking at him warily. "Okay. So what about my last name?"

"You go first this time."

"Well… I guess I want to keep it," I said, shrugging. "I really like it. But… I don't know. I could just keep it professionally, and use yours outside of work. I don't really want to hyphenate it."

And suddenly he was nodding again. "Okay," he said easily. "If that's what you want."

But this time, I stared at him in sheer disbelief. "No," I said, pointing a finger at him. "No way, Bolton. This can't be that easy. We had a huge fight about this last week. Everything's not just okay all of a sudden." I shook my head. "Something's up. I don't know what it is, but something's up."

"Well…

He looked away for a moment, then sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well… while I was at Zeke's, I had this conversation on the phone with Sharpay. And she told me all this stuff about—"

_Oh, God_. I put my hand over my face. "Was it… about being an only child?"

He looked up abruptly. "How did you know?"

I shook my head, laughing. "Well… Ryan told me the exact same thing in New York," I said. "He said that we both were used to getting our way, so we should think about backing down a bit. Stop being so self-entitled."

He laughed. "Well, she also told me I needed to listen to you a bit more, quit thinking about myself first in everything." He put his palms out and shrugged. "And that I should quit getting too involved in her and Zeke's lives, though it was kind of helping them at the moment."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He laughed again. "She said it was dangerous, I could get blamed for everything if it all went wrong. And… that it was an extreme manifestation of being an only child and insisting that I was right, which I should really seek professional help with immediately."

Then he looked over at me and we both burst out laughing, the sound echoing softly through the room. I laughed again as he put his hands to his face and tried to stifle it back. Then he gave up and just laughed sheepishly, flushing red and tearing up as the laughter kept coming. Finally, after a few minutes, it began to subside, letting him clear his throat and speak.

"Well, okay, here's what I really think," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "The kids… I'm okay with. Three years is fine. But I did really want you to have my name. I just thought it would be… nice. We'd show the world that we're together." He said the last part in a dramatic voice, then shrugged. "But… I thought about it later, and I understand if you want to keep yours." He laughed softly. "I know you're the last of the Montez dynasty. And… as far as proving we're together, we'll always have that."

He pointed at my hand, where the ring was shining brightly. I held it up and looked at it, as if seeing it for the first time. "Right," I said, smiling. "You'll get one too, I guess."

"Lucky me," he said, grinning.

So… that was it. Babies and last names, over. I couldn't believe it had been that easy. I hugged my knees to my chest and grinned at him. And then suddenly, he slipped off the edge of the couch and sat right next to me.

"Okay, put your knees down so I can hug you," he said playfully.

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**Author's Note**: Ha—guess what, since I split it up, the adult content is in the next part of this chapter, not this one! Sorry about that. It'll be up soon, once I'm happy with how it sounds. It's kind of a lemon, but I think it fits anyway. Oh, this will also means that there are two more installments to go: the next half of this chapter, plus the end.

And this may be a bit late, but I thought I'd share a few self-indulgent notes with you as this story winds down. If you're interested, there's been an unofficial mood-setting soundtrack I've been listening to as I write. I don't know about you, but these songs make me think of utter sadness, mixed with wistfulness about what has gone before. I'd be interested to hear what you think if you ever give any of the songs a listen and then read the story again.

Left and Leaving - The Weakerthans (unofficial theme song of this fic)

My Favourite Chords - The Weakerthans

Woke Up New - The Mountain Goats

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead – Stars

Calendar Girl - Stars

Adlai Stevenson – Sufjan Stevens

Casimir Pulaski Day – Sufjan Stevens

My Love is Gone (acoustic) – Josh Rouse

Falling Down Blue – Blue Rodeo

I Will Follow You Into The Dark – Death Cab for Cutie

Have You Seen Me Lately (live) – Counting Crows

Fix You – Coldplay

All right! Now send me a review and tell me what you thought of all this! (There were 17 reviews for the last chapter, by the way. The record still stands at 22 reviews for Chapter 12, but I think that was due to the mega-cliffhanger nature of the ending. (Maybe I should do more of those, huh? Haha, you know you love them :) )


	15. The String of Loose Ends Part II

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

**Author's Note**: All right, every one. This is a **VERY IMPORTANT REMINDER** that this fic is **RATED M. **Which means, as usual, that **this story is not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16, with possible strong but non-explicit adult themes, references to violence, and strong coarse language.**

Yes. I hate to give it all up like this, but the adult content is back for a bit. And I don't mean to treat you all like children, but I don't want anyone getting any nasty surprises when they read this chapter, since the rest of it has been relatively adult-content-free.

So be warned—read on at your own risk!

_Written July 11, 2006_

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**Chapter 14 - The String of Loose Ends**

PART II

He'd asked me to put my knees down so we could hug. But I froze for a second before bending them down and away.

A strange look crossed his face, and he put his hand on my leg gently. "You okay?"

His hand sparked off a shock, a light cramp in my muscles. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He looked at me doubtfully, lifting his hand off. "You didn't look fine just now."

I didn't know how to say that I didn't want to touch him. "I'm okay," I said, knowing it sounded like a lie.

He was starting to sound exasperated. "Seriously, don't do that. I know something's up. So don't pretend like there isn't." He frowned. "Look. We've got to talk when things come up. You saw what happened to us if we don't. And there can't be any more running away." Folding his arms, he looked at me. "So… I'm just going to stay here until you let me know what the problem is. And then, maybe we can figure out what to do."

He stared at me tightly, and I knew he was right. I pulled my knees up, trying to make myself small, and took a deep breath.

"Well…" I said. "You know I'm happy to be with you again. It was awful being apart. But… all this stuff has happened now. And… you haven't touched me in a long time."

"So…"

"So…" I looked away, feeling weird about saying this. "It just feels like our relationship has changed a little, you know? And we can't just step back in exactly like it used to be. I guess I'm not sure… how to be close to you anymore. It all just feels like… a shock… when you touch me."

"Oh."

I felt him stiffen slightly, and there was a pause. I hugged my knees to my chest tightly, feeling like an idiot.

"It kind of feels like it does when you lick a nine-volt battery," I blurted out suddenly.

He let out a short laugh. "Great." Then he rubbed the back of his neck again, letting out a breath.

"Well… okay," he said finally. "I guess… I can see what you're saying. But… I don't see how you flinching constantly away from me is going to fix this."

"No," I said guiltily. "No, I know. And I do want to be close to you. I just… it's weird. I'm sorry. Maybe it's just all happening too fast. I'm freaking out a little."

"Okay." I heard him breathe in heavily. "Well… maybe we could try something. Really slow. So you know it's coming, and you can just kind of get used to the feeling when it happens." He looked over at me. "You want to try a hug?"

Something in me cringed, but I nodded anyway. "Yeah. Okay."

He put out his arms stiffly, and I felt strangely frightened and vulnerable as I moved forward into them. But as he held me longer, the jerking tension in my body seemed to fade. Feeling more comfortable, I snuggled my head into his shoulder, tightening my arms around his neck. I felt him put his head on my shoulder and squeeze me to him gently.

"So," he whispered into my ear after a while. "You're doing okay?"

"Yeah," I whispered back. "I'm doing great."

"Okay," he said, starting to stroke my back. "How's this?"

A thrill echoed softly through me. "Good," I said.

"Good," he said, still stroking. "So… you want to try something else?"

"Sure."

"Well… whenever you're ready."

I nodded into his shoulder. And slowly, I felt him shift me so I sat in his lap, my knees bent to one side like a bride carried over a threshold. His arms were still around me, but my head was off his shoulder now. Our faces were so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.

"Don't freak out at this," he whispered. "But I'm going to kiss you."

I nodded numbly, feeling my heart start to race. And then looking at me carefully, he put his lips to mine.

And this kiss was different from the one on the steps, this time gentle and loving and completely unhurried. And as I felt my body relax in his arms, I began to kiss back. I could feel something stir within me as his body pressed close to mine.

And as we kept going, I felt his tongue move softly into my mouth, and another thrill raced through me, more intense. I found myself kissing back more, my tongue gently moving to touch his, and his hand started to move tentatively, sliding up and down over my side.

When we finally broke free, he was breathing hard, his eyes bright. "Is this too fast?" he asked.

I shook my head, hypnotized by our closeness. "It's… just right."

"Okay," he said haltingly. "Then… I'm going to try something else."

And I caught my breath as his lips touched my neck, moving softly and slowly down to my shoulder. His arms wrapped around my lower back, gently pulling me as close as we could go. My hand slid over to hold his head closer to me, and I trembled slightly as he kissed along my collarbone. Then without thinking, I moved my leg over to straddle him, to press his chest against mine tight.

And I felt him breathe in sharply as our hips suddenly touched, his eyes turning soft as he looked up at me. Silently, he seemed to be asking, _Should we go on? _And as I looked at him there, so concerned, so handsome in his shirt and tie, I couldn't think how I was afraid to touch him before. Leaning down, I nodded yes, curling my fingers into his hair as I kissed him again.

And then slowly, he pulled me tight to him, his mouth moving to the open skin at the neckline of my dress. He kissed softly between my breasts, then nudged the edge of the neckline aside and put his mouth on my bare nipple. I moaned as he traced it with his tongue, and as he bit down softly with his teeth. And I gasped as I felt his hands slip under my dress, sliding up over my thighs to edge under the thin fabric of my panties.

Then his head lifted to kiss me as his fingers slid within me, plunging inside, then out, over and over again. And as my kiss grew more desperate, the pleasure reaching its peak, he pulled out completely, wrapping his arms around my waist to lift me up off the couch.

And then he had me on the bed, kissing me hungrily as he unzipped my dress, slid off my panties, as I pulled off his pants and shirt and everything. And then he reached for a condom from the bedside table, and pulled me on top of him. And sitting on his hips, I closed my eyes, feeling a rising pleasure as I took him further and further in. And when he was finally all the way there, I sat frozen for a moment, almost unable to believe how deep he was.

And then I whimpered as he started to move, each slow thrust driving him in deeper and deeper. And he groaned as my hips started to move with his rhythm, as if helpless against the mounting ecstasy inside. I leaned forward to cling to his shoulders as his thrusts came faster, my breath coming in tense, relentless gasps. And I cried out against his neck as I came in a shuddering burst, trembling uncontrollably. He let out a cry as he thrust hard one last time, his arms wrapping around me tight as we finally lay there together, still.

And we breathed there together for a minute, exhausted, the last barrier in this fight between us finally in shreds. And I felt almost like crying, knowing how scared I had been, and how he had taken the roadblocks down. And as he kissed my shoulder gently, I knew then that I loved him beyond all things. He knew me by heart, knew how to bring me back, knew just how to make everything safe and good again.

Then I felt him kiss me softly on the forehead, and I lifted up as he moved to slide out of me. And as I snuggled into his side, I heard him sigh.

"That felt like a little more than nine volts, Montez," he said.

I laughed. "Probably."

Then lifting my head, I moved up to kiss him one last time. "I love you, Troy," I whispered.

He held me close, kissing me again. "I love you too."

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**Author's Note: **Well… lemony, I told you! You could definitely see why that couldn't be one giant chapter though. And man, it really took me forever to write this one, to get everything sounding just right. Anyway, I hope it, uh, satisfied. I know it was kind of long, but well… there hasn't been any action for the whole story, so I guess I just let it run wild :) Now, let's talk reviews: just 12 for the last chapter, although each was of course sincerely appreciated. But I'm going to pretend it's because you were all waiting for this one, so go ahead… send me one now! And remember, there's just one more chapter left before we'll have to part….


	16. The Honest Things, They Last

**Disclaimer: **It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.

_Written July 15, 2006_

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**Chapter 15 – The Honest Things, They Last**

And then I was walking down the aisle in a beautiful white dress, Troy waiting with a smile at the end. And his eyes were shining as he watched me reach him, as if he could hardly believe his luck. And as I neared, I turned to the left, taking my place next to the maid of honor. And then our eyes turned back to watch the bride approach, the wedding march echoing softly throughout the church.

And under her veil, I could see Sharpay was crying as she walked to meet Zeke. But his smile made her tears fade, and they seemed stronger together than they had been apart. They'd made it through the prenup discussion intact: Zeke had signed, finally seeing it as a sign of realistic trust instead of failure. And the kids and last name issues had been resolved soon after, though I didn't quite know the result—Troy wasn't getting involved anymore, as requested.

As the ceremony started, I winked at Troy and he grinned back at me happily. It was lucky we'd been roped into being bridesmaid and groomsman together, or the whole thing would have been hard to handle. Sharpay was a lovely but demanding bride, and it was good to have someone to laugh with as we went through numerous parties, showers, and rehearsals.

And much to Sharpay's pleasure, the whole day seemed to be going off without a hitch. As the ceremony wound down, she gave Zeke's hand a little squeeze of triumph as they marched back down the aisle, the guests rising to their feet to applaud. I put my arm through Troy's as we followed them out, and he leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"Hey," he said, urgently. "I hear it's easy to get with you bridesmaids at weddings."

"Oh, shut up," I said, elbowing him, and he laughed.

"Ahh, I knew I should have gone for the maid of honor instead," he said, grinning. "She's a former Miss New Mexico, you know."

"She's a former Albuquerque Junior Miss, and that was fourteen years ago," I said.

"Well, she's still got it," he said seriously, and then laughed as I hit him again. "Okay, okay, so do you, of course," he said, kissing the top of my head. "You look gorgeous, Gabi. You know it."

I pretended to swoon, and he laughed, squeezing me close to his side as Zeke and Sharpay stopped in front of us. They looked so in love as they stood on top of the church steps, the guests cheering and throwing confetti to congratulate them. Then after a few moments, Sharpay turned to nod at us. And then we were following them again, as always, to the cars waiting to whisk us away.

-------------------------------

We dropped onto the plush green grass near the Palace of Fine Arts. It was a gorgeous open-air Roman-style stone building near a shining lake—the perfect setting for elegant wedding photos. After a million group shots of the bridal party, Sharpay and Zeke were posing for their couple-only photos nearby, giving us a chance to finally rest our smiles. And Marek and Lily, the best man and maid of honor, had gone back to the car to get Lily's inhaler, finally leaving us with a moment alone.

I smiled at Troy, sitting next to me with his jacket off and his legs stretched out. Careful not to get grass stains on my white dress, I moved to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Hey," I said, smiling. "I forgot to tell you earlier, but—"

But suddenly a voice cut in. "Hey, guys."

We looked behind us to see Ryan approaching, holding Sharpay's youngest son Matthew. The little boy lifted his head off Ryan's shoulder and his eyes widened as he saw us.

"Hey, Ryan," Troy said, grinning. "Glad you could make it."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I just missed the ceremony, thanks to fog or something on the runway in New York." He shrugged. "But I'm here now. And of course, lucky uncle Ryan is put straight to work. I'm babysitting Matthew and Dylan, the little terrors." He patted Matthew's back softly and laughed.

I smiled up at him. "So where's Dylan?"

"What?"

Ryan's expression turned to pure shock as he started to frantically scan the area around him. "Oh no. You've got to be kidding me. Where did that kid go?"

And looking around, we all saw him at the same time. In the distance, a little blond boy was chasing the ducks near the edge of the lake. Ryan's face turned slightly red.

"I told him to stay right behind me," he said. "Man, is he going to get it." He looked down at Troy. "Hold onto this one for a minute."

And he dropped Matthew into Troy's arms, rocketing off to chase after his nephew. I laughed, watching Dylan turn and run as he saw his uncle flying toward him. And when I turned back, ready to share the laugh with Troy, I suddenly felt my heart twist. Troy held Matthew in his arms, both of them looking out at a bird which had suddenly waddled up behind them. I saw Matthew giggle as Troy whispered softly in his ear, huge smiles on both their faces.

I couldn't help but grin to match them, thinking about how wonderful Troy was. And suddenly, I remembered my news… but for the moment, I kept it to myself.

-------------------------------

And then I was taking my heels off as the reception wound down, dangling them in my hands as I padded around the ballroom. Troy had disappeared a while back to talk with some of people he knew, but I couldn't see him in any of the small groups milling about.

The band started into a raucous country song as I went to pick at the pieces of wedding cake spread out on the buffet table. Sitting in a nearby chair, Ryan caught my eye and made a vomiting gesture at the changed music. He could hardly do more: Matthew lay sleeping against his chest, his arms curled softly around his uncle's neck, and Ryan kept a sharp eye on Dylan as he chased a little girl around the room. Lifting my plate of cake, I nodded to him, smiling before I turned away.

I wandered around the room, chatting lightly with some of the guests and keeping an eye out for Troy. But somehow, I stopped looking for him as my last conversation drifted away. A wave of fatigue overtook me, and I felt my legs aching from all the walking today. But looking around, the chairs suddenly seemed wholly unwelcoming. Instead, I chose an open spot along one wall behind the tables, sliding down to sit on the carpeted floor. Hidden by the tables, I relaxed and finished off the remains of my cake, my tired legs stretched out comfortably in front of me. Then suddenly, I heard someone whisper.

"Psst. Room enough for two down there?"

And looking up, there stood Troy, grinning at me like always.

I nodded, smiling, and he bent down to sit next to me, his legs stretched out in front too. I moved so I leaned against his chest, and he wrapped an arm loosely around my waist, kissing the top of my head.

"I don't know about you, but I'm so tired," he said, sighing. "I saw Zeke and Sharpay on the dance floor still cutting up a rug. They must be on speed or something."

I laughed. "Hey, I couldn't find you earlier," I said. "Where'd you go for so long?"

He let out a wry laugh. "The bathroom," he said. "I was just going to pee… but then one of Sharpay's kid cousins came in totally smashed. I had to prop the poor guy up over the toilet so he could let it all out." He shook his head. "And just when you think he's out of vomit… he really knows how to surprise you."

"Well… the Evans family was always multitalented," I said, and he laughed, hugging me a little. "No doubt about that," he said.

Then suddenly, there was a warm silence between us. I felt him rest his cheek against my head, and his hand spread out over my stomach as he held me. Nestled close to him, I remembered then what I had to say.

"Hey," I said, smiling as I looked up at him. "I was going to tell you something earlier. Kind of big news."

"Big, huh?" he said.

"Well… big for me, anyway," I said, putting my hand over his. "They're keeping me on permanently as associate editor at Poptech. The issue I coordinated did really well. Isn't that great?"

But I realized he wasn't saying anything. Tentatively, I looked up and spoke again. "Yeah, everyone got nicer the longer I stayed there. And Camille even left to go to 4WD, that tech & sport magazine down the block. But… it is great, right?"

"Oh… yeah." He let out a breath. "Sorry. I just thought…"

"Thought what?"

And suddenly I felt the warm vibration of his laughter through my back. "I just had this feeling that you were going to say you were…. pregnant."

"Pregnant." I laughed gently, pulling his arm tighter around me. "Of course. You've been trying to knock me up, haven't you?"

"Well… I needed a hobby." He let out a burst of guilty laughter as he said the next part. "And... you know I was always good with my hands."

I elbowed him, but it only made him laugh harder. "God forbid you should ever have children," I said, smiling. "They're going to be nightmares."

And as his laughter subsided, he wrapped both arms around my waist and kissed me on the shoulder. "Well, it's all right," he said. "I really can't complain about the way things are right now." He leaned me backwards gently, and kissed me on the mouth. "You're a lot of fun all on your own."

"Ahhh… you're not so bad yourself."

And smiling happily, I kissed him again, feeling his hand lift into my hair to hold the back of my head. "Hey," he said, squeezing my side as we broke apart. "I always knew you bridesmaids were easy."

"Oh, shut up," I said, laughing.

And as he laughed and held me close again, I felt a warmth spread within me as I relaxed into him. It was as easy between us as it had always been, since we had first met at that ski lodge back in high school. I felt a strange sense of delight, that the person I loved now was the first I had ever loved, all those years ago. And I thought about walking down the aisle this morning towards him, and how right it had all somehow seemed.

And as he whispered into my ear, it seemed as though he was thinking the same. "You know, we get to do all this next summer."

"I know," I whispered back. "We planned it that way, remember?"

"Clever of us," he said. "But you know… I can't wait."

I felt him kiss the back of my head softly, and smiled. "Neither can I," I said.

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**Author's Note**: Ahhh, endings are hard. I twisted and turned over where this one would go for the longest time. And Once and Again set the bar so high for me---but I couldn't exactly have Troy propose twice. Instead, I thought I'd just let them have a good time, a little banter, and tie up the stuff about Gabi's job and Sharpay and Zeke. A warm kiss on the cheek before we sent them off into that good night. (If you're interested, the song I was listening to here was By Heart by Sylvie Lewis, which is a lovely, lovely song.)

Agh---and that means this story is finally over! So much love to all you readers out there---you all meant so much. It's still amazing to me that you guys all liked something I've written, and when you did review, it really did keep me so excited to continue. Special, special thanks to aussiegirl1989, keepermarch, Efron'sGirl, TroyandGabriellafanFOREVER, lizzie2917, mylifeismine, peachie1st, lylmzduckie , kagomeguen, SPOTTY, StarInHeaven1014, Mrs.Maricelle123456789, shoppinfreak, virzag, Butterflycutie88, balingy, carito06, soaringinlove, SOARING-FLYING, Mrs. Radcliffe-Efron, loveRHINO, ZacNessa4Ever, xoxo some lover (or KAPOW), Egyptian-Fire, popkornchicken, Fic-Chic, ChaylorLover4Ever, TheFlash017, nadia2008, lipshake, candyangel1791, Hsmluver29, sophthewiseone, Oliverwoodschic, StrengthToBelieve, sweet blossom89, luv24+Alias, SugarCoatedStrawberry08, dolcebabi, and especially to moonlightdream4, xochrissy, wendy04, and the mysterious M from the Breaking Free boards. As with the last time, I hope I got everyone there… but if I didn't, you know I think everyone who submitted a review was wonderful, and you should all definitely know that!

So… since we're at the very end, I'd love for you to send me a review, if you have anything to say about the story at all. I guess it's kind of a last chance for me to hear from you while it's all fresh in your minds (and mine). Awww… I'm going to miss writing this story so much, but their story just had to end here for now! There will possibly (probably?) be a third installment, because you know I love them so, but at the moment, I think they're good as they are.

But as always, this won't be the end for me with fanfics. I hope you'll join me as I go back to the HSM Romance Challenge for now (link available under my profile), and wherever else I might go with HSM stories in the future. Thank you all so much again… it's been such a good time! Lots and lots and lots of love!

_Added Note (11/19/2006):_ Hi everyone! There's now a sequel to ATRM called Slips & Tangles. Go and check it out under my profile!


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